


this is no bridget jones

by nicheinhischest



Series: this is no bridget jones [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, M/M, slow burn ziall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-05
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-20 09:18:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 54,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/583739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicheinhischest/pseuds/nicheinhischest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Harry," Zayn feels like he’s losing it, "Harry, you know my life isn't a romantic comedy, right? No matter how much you try and make it one."</p><p>"Please, I've seen <i>Love, Actually</i> like... thirty times," Harry says, grinning. "This is going to be <i>so</i> much better.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Basically: it's a Giant American University AU Wherein Lots Of Things Happen To Everyone.
> 
>  ETA(S): I would really appreciate it if - should you come across a version of this on another website - y'all could drop me a message/comment to let me know. It really sucks when people post your original work on different sites, even more when a) they haven't even bothered to ask first and/or b) they haven't given credit or linked to the original site (aka this one).  
> That being said, I do have this in my profile already but: **please do not post this on other sites, even if they link back to here.** This is more of a personal preference than anything else. I don't mind linking on twitter/tumblr as a means of sharing, obvs, but it really makes me anxious when people put it up in its entirety on different sites and I have no control over it, especially when they haven't thought to ask if it's okay first (it isn't). _Please_ let me keep this as self-contained as possible, I would appreciate it so much. Thank you!
> 
> **ETA2: I edited this - a year and a half late lol - and while it's still probably not what I would've written present day, hopefully it's a little easier to read (so many commas. I'm so sorry for past me). Anyway - if you're reading, and it happens to look slightly different, that's why :)**

*

Zayn first meets Liam at track practice towards the end of his third year of high school. Really, he’s known _of_ Liam since they were kids - in a periphery way because everyone knows everyone in their town - but that doesn't really matter. Zayn isn’t actually a _part_ of track practice. Mostly, he’s seventeen and bored, and he somehow thinks consistently smoking half a pack of cigarettes in the bleachers while watching other students participate in things will solve both of these problems. He comes with his sketchbook and pencils too, always, because there’s no practice quite like trying to draw people in motion.

It’s not that he’s a loner. He _isn’t_. He has friends - he has a lot of friends. It’s just, sometimes he’d prefer to sit alone than engage. Only, Liam Payne's never quite grasped the concept of _alone time_ , because one day after practice ends on an unnaturally hot April afternoon, Zayn catches him looking up from the edge of the track. His arms are resting on the top of the gate that separates the field from the bleachers, and he raises a hand to shade his eyes against the sunlight.

“You know, those are really bad for you.”

“Okay,” Zayn says.

“I know you've probably heard that a billion times already.”

“Nope.” Zayn raises an eyebrow, flicks ash off the tip of his cigarette. “ _Never_.”

Liam shrugs, the sarcasm rolling off of him like nothing; it’s kind of weird, but Liam Payne is _kind of weird_ in general. He’s a grade behind Zayn, used to get bullied a lot as a kid until he found himself (and individualized sports) in high school. He seems happier, Zayn thinks. And he’s just… he’s _nice_. To _everyone_. And Zayn’s pretty sure that kind of personality trait would be absolutely fucking annoying if Liam didn't look so damn genuine about everything.

Like right now: he’s smiling up at Zayn from the edge of the track like they’re old friends, like them having chats is a regular occurrence.

“Right,” Liam says. Then he hops over the gate with a huff. He gives a shifty look around when he lands before making his way up the stands to Zayn. "Can I try that?”

Zayn leans back in the stands, elbows on the metal bench behind him. “It’s not weed or anything.”

“Oh, I know.”

“You just seemed conspiratorial about it,” Zayn says, but when Liam’s eyebrows furrow he chases it with a, “Nevermind.”

He clutches his sketchpad to his chest with his free hand, passes his already lit cigarette to Liam. “Here.”

Liam holds it clumsily between inexperienced fingers. He inhales, eyes going cross-eyed in an attempt to stare down the ember on the end. He coughs a bit, says, “Ugh, that’s gross,” and Zayn feels his mouth quirk up at one end.

“Did you think it wouldn't be?”

“No, I just wanted to see what the appeal was.” He gives the cigarette back and tips his chin up. “You’re Zayn, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m Liam.”

“I know.” Zayn glances over Liam's shoulder, gestures with the cigarette to an angry-looking man with a whistle around his neck. “I think your coach thinks I’m trying to corrupt you.”

Liam turns to look and laughs. "Simon? Nah, that’s just his face. Hey, do you like comic books?”

The non sequitur throws him off. “What?”

“Comic books?” Liam gestures to Zayn’s sketchpad. “It's just, I see you drawing a lot and I was wondering if you did? Because this new place opened in the city and I don’t really have other friends who do, not that you’re a friend or that you read comics, or that that isn’t a little creepy to ask. I haven’t been watching you or anything, you’re just always _here_ and drawing and it’s kind of hard not to notice. But there’s that place in the city and would you wanna come with?” 

He pauses, and squints a little like he’s thinking. 

“Also, I’m sorry that I said you weren't my friend. That’s not a nice way to put it.”

“I got the idea, I think,” Zayn says, and he’s definitely trying not to sound amused because Liam Payne likes to _talk_. “I like comics, yeah. And I know the place you’re talking about. I haven’t been able to go,” he raises a shoulder half-heartedly. “No ride. Train takes forever and a cab is too expensive.”

“I have a car!” Liam says. “I mean, I just got my license and I can only use it if I ask first, but I have one!”

“You’re really excited,” Zayn notes and Liam huffs a little.

“I just like superheroes. So, d’you wanna come?”

Zayn doesn’t like to hang out with new people most of the time. It’s a waste, he thinks - he has perfectly good friends now, it’s not like he needs more. But Liam is smiling at him, and he looks so happy at the idea of going into the city that Zayn thinks if he says no, Liam will do something terrible like frown and make Zayn feel like a horrible person.

So he says, “Yeah, alright.”

Liam beams. “Give me your number so I can text you,” he says. He watches Zayn write it out in neat print on a scrap of sketch paper, and that's kind of that until Liam bounces from one foot to the other, still grinning. He leans forward.

“I knew you were nerdy,” he says quietly, like he’s figured out Zayn’s biggest secret. “I had a feeling.”

Zayn scoffs, but it’s half a disguised laugh, too. “I am not. I’m cool, can't you see the leather jacket?”

“In April.” Liam grins wider. “I’ve seen you wearing that in the middle of summer before. Lucky you haven’t gotten heatstroke yet.”

“Don’t insult the person whose just agreed to read comics with you, Liam,” Zayn chides lightly, and Liam does laugh, then.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Zayn.”

*

In Zayn’s defense, he doesn't actually realize he's like, _stupidly_ in love with Liam until his eighteenth birthday. Liam is the last to give him a present, only after everyone's gone home and their parents have turned in for the night. 

He hands over the package with a twitchy, nervous smile and when Zayn finally gets it open, he can't quite believe what's in his hands: a _The Amazing Spider-Man_ comic, circa 1966. It's got bent and tattered pages, certainly worth thousands of dollars less than a mint condition, but Zayn is holding an actual Silver Age comic in his hands, one _Liam_ bought for him.

He glances up, mouth open, at a loss for words. Liam mumbles something about the powers of eBay and Zayn just steps forward and hugs him tight, mindful of the comic between them. When he pulls away, Liam’s cheeks are red like he’s embarrassed by his own sincerity, and he grins wide and happy and—

And Zayn is so in love with that smile that it _hurts_.

“I can’t believe you did this for me,” he says, in awe, and Liam just taps him under the chin with light fingers and goes to hug him again.

“You’re my best friend," Liam tells him, soft. “I’d do anything for you.”

Zayn buries his face in the crook of Liam's neck, thinks _only you_ , and it's not the first time he wants to kiss Liam, not by a long shot.

It’s definitely not the last, either.

*

Zayn graduates high school ahead of Liam. He takes year off before applying, partly because he wants to save up and help out around the house and partly because he has no clue what he wants to do. By the time he _does_ decide (animation, at a university a few hours south of them, with a promising new arts program that's getting a lot of buzz across the country), it's the end of February, and he's sitting on his bed staring at an acceptance letter in his hands for the Fall semester.

Liam comes over later, when he gets out of class. Zayn can hear him yell out a quick hello to his sisters as he bounds up the stairs. He flings the door open and dive-bombs the bed, crashing into Zayn, bag and all, unrestrained. "Hey!"

"Hey," Zayn laughs. He squeezes Liam's sides before letting go and sitting back up. "How's school?"

"Can't wait for it to be over," Liam shakes his head. "Can't wait to _graduate_ \- also I have a secret?" he says, smiling, voice lilting up at the end. Zayn jerks his chin at him.

"Yeah? What?"

"I got," Liam pauses, and then he's laughing and digging into his bag, "I got into my first choice school. And it's - it's for _music_."

He hands over the envelope - a big one, with WELCOME! written on the front, and - and Zayn almost wants to laugh. "Liam," he _is_ laughing slightly, he can't help it, and Liam smiles back, just the slightest bit confused.

"I haven't told anyone yet. Besides you. I don't - I don't wanna be sensible, I think. I thought I did, and I know it's what my parents want for me but I - I don't want to study something I hate and dread going to work every day, you know? It's for audio engineering. Producing," Liam says, and when Zayn doesn't say anything, he frowns and pokes Zayn in the forehead with an index finger, "...Zayn, you there?"

"Yeah, sorry." Zayn shakes his head. "It's just that," he leans back, grabs his own big envelope from his bedside drawer. He tosses it into Liam's lap, aiming for nonchalant even though his heart feels like it's caught somewhere in his throat.

"Got this today."

Liam picks it up like its made of glass, and when he looks at Zayn, he grins. "We got into the same school."

"We got into the same school," Zayn repeats quietly.

"This is amazing." Liam pulls his bottom lip in, hesitant: "I mean - you're going, right? Or - are you - are you waiting for other responses?"

"First choice," Zayn says. "Think I wanna do animation."

Liam perks up.

"You can make a Disney movie," he says brightly, and Zayn falls back onto his bed with a chuckle.

"Yeah, sure. Work for Pixar. Something. I don't know. But I - I want what you want. To go to work happy. To be happy."

"I think we will be," Liam says, sliding his bag to the floor and putting both their envelopes on top.

"Bit naïve, maybe."

"To be happy?" Liam shakes his head and moves to lie next to Zayn. "No, it's not."

He's so quiet, lying there. Then he turns his head to look at Zayn. "Can't believe we both got in. Can we dorm together? Or - no, get a place off campus. We can save up all summer for it."

"Not tired of me yet, Payne, even after two years?" Zayn asks, folding his hands together on his stomach.

"Never," Liam tells him, quick and genuine. He grabs Zayn's hand and links their fingers together because he’s Liam and that’s just what he does. "Never get tired of you."

Liam smiles again, his nose all scrunched up eyes hidden underneath a lifetime's worth of laugh lines. Zayn grins back and bites at Liam's shoulder through his bulky sweater. And he thinks, yeah, he really wants to kiss Liam _all the time_ now but - but he loves this laughter just as much. Still, Zayn figures maybe things'll be different, once they get to school. Maybe once they're out of their small town that they can - well, he's not sure, exactly.

He just knows it'll be different.

It has to be.

*

(It isn't - not in the way he hopes, at least.)

*

The first month of school is uneventful, at best. They move into their apartment without much fuss (if you don't count Zayn's _father_ of all people getting weepy at the goodbyes). They settle into courses, and campus jobs, and occasional parties, and a quasi-adult life. They make acquaintances - people from orientation they both know they won't remember by January - but in the end, they have each other, and that's good enough for Zayn.

Then Liam comes back from classes at the end of September holding a scrap piece of paper with an address scrawled across it in someone else’s handwriting.

"Party!" Liam says without an introduction. "Got invited to a party."

"Yeah?" Zayn shoves his textbooks aside and Liam sits next to him. “From who?”

"Kid named Harry in Music Comp." He shakes the paper under Zayn's nose, looking for all the world like Christmas has come early. "He said his roommate's brother is throwing something this weekend at his two-flat and that I should come and bring whoever I wanted."

"Aww." Zayn slides an arm around Liam's shoulders, teasing, "You made a friend, Liam?"

"I made a friend," Liam says, grinning. Hesitantly, he asks, "Sounds fun, right?" 

Zayn knows Liam won’t go without him, and it makes something go tight in his chest. “Yeah,” he says as Liam clutches the paper in his hand. “Yeah, sounds fun.”

*

“ _Liiiam_!”

They barely make it through the door and into the packed room before someone throws their arms around Liam. He’s smiling, maybe a little nervous, but he pats the boy on the back anyway. “Hi, Harry.”

“I’m so glad you’re here; you looked like you needed a break." His eyes are very wide and very green and very pretty. "Do you ever get breaks, Liam?”

He notices Zayn then, and nods at him. “Hello, who are you? Does Liam take breaks, ever?”

“Zayn, and no, not usually,” Zayn says, holding out a hand, but it’s squished between them when Harry hugs him. "Oh - hi?"

“Sorry," he steps back, gives a charming little half-smile. "I'm not drunk, I promise. Or, well. Not _very_.” 

He cranes his neck, trying to see over the massive crowd of people. “My roommate’s here somewhere, Liam. Wanted you to meet him. He’s really amazing.”

“Harry, are you on something?” Liam asks, mostly joking, though Zayn can hear the slight undercurrent of concern. Harry barks out a laugh and claps his hands over his mouth.

"What? No, why?"

"You're just," Liam looks a bit flustered. "Talking faster. Faster than usual."

"So, normal-paced," Harry laughs, and then knocks Liam with his shoulder. "No, I’m just - excited. High on life. Also one of the deejay’s for our radio station is here that I think has been...” he trails off as he looks around the room, seems to find the person who he’s talking about because he gives a jaunty wave and points towards the opposite end of the room.

“Right, I have business to attend to that mostly involves hands in pants.” He takes a breath, looks between them. “Wanna drink, before I go?”

“Liam doesn’t drink much,” Zayn says, and Harry’s eyebrows jump before he pats Liam on the back.

“No problem. Think there’s Coke and stuff for mixers in the fridge, if you check. The kitchen’s through there,” he points straight across the room, “Danielle - she lives here - will get you something, just ask. Do you drink?” he asks Zayn, and Zayn nods.

“Tell her you’re a friend of mine then,” Harry smiles, “she’ll put a little extra in.”

“Thanks,” Zayn says, pleased, and Harry shrugs like it’s no problem.

He heads off, and Liam turns to Zayn and lifts his shoulders with a grin. “Ready?”

Zayn throws an arm around his shoulders.

“Ready.”

*

The thing is, they’ve only been in the kitchen - been at this party - for twenty minutes, _maybe_ , and Zayn’s pretty sure Liam’s in love with Danielle.

He’s like, eighty percent sure.

She’s gorgeous and funny and says she’s doing a graduate degree. If it were possible for Liam to have actual hearts in his eyes, he’d have them. Zayn sips at his drink (the bitterness of the vodka is going to give him a headache tomorrow, he already knows) and watches Liam watch Danielle.

“—only been here a few months,” Liam is saying, and Danielle interrupts him with, “Oh, you’re a freshman?” Liam sort of frowns like he doesn’t want to answer.

“...yes?” he says.

Danielle shrugs, goes back to reorganizing the tequila by quality of brand (Zayn can appreciate the effort). “You just don’t look eighteen.” She glances up at Zayn. “You either.”

“I'll be twenty in a few months,” Zayn tells her, and gulps down half his drink, fights back a grimace. “I took a year off.”

Danielle nods like she gets it. “I did the same thing. Wanted to get a job and help out around the house first.”

She lifts her own Solo cup up and raises an eyebrow like she’s trying to figure out if that’s what he did, too. Zayn smiles and clinks his cup against hers. “We’re bonding,” he says dryly. She laughs, and if this were a cartoon, Liam would be in a puddle on the floor. Zayn really, _really_ wants to hate her, but he _can’t_.

She takes a small sip of her drink then, eyes Liam over the rim of her cup. “D’you want to see my room?” she asks casually, and Liam looks like a deer trapped in headlights.

“Are - are you drunk?” he blurts out immediately. Danielle looks confused; Zayn snorts into his cup.

“What?”

“It’s just,” Liam grips his Coke in his hands. “You know, I don’t really drink a lot. And I don’t. Um. If you’ve - been drinking, I don’t?”

He doesn’t finish his thought just sort of stares helplessly at her with an expression that’s like he’s trying to be considerate and hopeful, all at once.

“Are you trying to tell me you don’t want to take advantage of someone inebriated?” she asks slowly, and Liam’s cheeks go red. She laughs though, leans forward.

“I’m not,” she says. “This is the first drink I’ve had all night. But thanks for checking.”

“Don’t mention it?” Liam says quietly, and they’re probably going to have to work on the whole ending his sentences like they’re questions thing, later.

Danielle gives the counter of drinks a cursory once over and then points towards a room. “Coming?”

Liam’s eyes are wide when he turns to Zayn. He looks so earnestly _lost_ that Zayn can’t do much but nod encouragingly and smile at him. It’s the extra confidence Liam needs, apparently, because he grins back and slides the tips of his fingers under Zayn's chin before following Danielle out of the room.

Okay. Alright. Zayn can deal with this. Liam's found a hot girl to have some fun with, and if there's something Liam always needs more of, it's fun. It's perfectly cool.

Except.

Except the party is a lot less inviting without Liam around, and it's _also_ a lot less interesting when Zayn pictures what they might be doing up there - it's Liam, so it's not like he's going to go _wild_ or anything, but there'll definitely be kissing involved because he knows the look Liam had when he was talking to Danielle. It's the same one Zayn saw Liam make right before he asked his last girlfriend out and it's. It's whatever. It's fine.

But Zayn finds himself downing the rest of his drink, anyway.

He wonders if he can find the Harry kid from earlier - he seemed nice - and he’s trying to make his way out of the kitchen when he trips over a _shirt_ on the floor and knocks into someone, hard. The last bit of his drink drips onto their forearm and Zayn mutters, "Shit, sorry, man," but whoever it is just claps him on the back a couple times.

"Don’t worry about it." The guy smiles. He's got a mouthful of dental work and a snapback on. "Hey, you wanna come hold my legs for a keg stand?"

Zayn has never seen this guy anywhere on campus, not that he or Liam venture far enough away from each other to necessitate meeting new people beyond classmates (and here Zayn resolutely Does Not Think of leggy brunettes with pretty smiles and kind faces that've always been Liam's type) but he's smiling like he simultaneously wants Zayn to have the most fun ever _and_ like he couldn't give less of a shit if Zayn declined, so Zayn says, "Uh. Sure?"

The guy grins wider and says, "Follow me."

Zayn does. He holds the boy up while he does a keg stand in a corner away from the music; he's skinny, so light it almost takes no effort. When he's done and Zayn sets him right side up again, he wipes his mouth and takes a deep bow to the people cheering around him.

" _Thank you_ ," he says in an affected tone, flourishing his hands out regally. Once the crowd disperses, he plops his snapback back on his head and grins as he throws an arm around Zayn’s neck to pull him in.

"And you!" he laughs, and sticks out his free hand. "Niall. It's Irish," he adds, like he's expecting Zayn to comment on it, but then he hears, "Zayn," and he snorts.

"Nevermind," he tells Zayn. "Always used to someone asking me what the hell kinda name is Niall, but we might be in the same boat?"

"No one can ever spell it first try," Zayn admits. Niall laughs and then quiets and squints his eyes.

"Hey, you okay?" Niall asks, and honestly -

"You look really concerned for someone whose only known me for like, ten minutes."

"Fifteen, more like," Niall says breezily, "and you held my legs up, that practically makes us blood brothers."

He pats Zayn's chest and the brim of his cap catches Zayn in the temple. "You wanna play a round of beer pong with me?" he asks. "I think my usual roommate-slash-partner is currently naked in a room somewhere and you seem like you know what you're doing, drinking game-wise."

Zayn shrugs. "I'm alright."

"Well, I'm the best," Niall says confidently, "so we're bound to win."

He lets go of Zayn and heads towards the front room without even bothering to check if Zayn is following him. Zayn _is_ , but that's not the point.

"Onward, Zayn!" Niall yells over the music, pumping a fist up into the air.

"Once more unto the drunken breach!"

*

They win the first game, and every game after that. By the time they’ve each got a hand on a makeshift trophy made out of empty beer cans, Niall’s hugging Zayn around the waist and drunkenly singing _weee are the champions my friii-eeends_ into his ear. Zayn isn't thinking of Liam and curly-haired girls who make Liam smile at all.

They meet up again at the end of the night, Liam and Zayn, each with dopey grins for different reasons. They stumble into a cab (well, Zayn stumbles, Liam mostly just shimmies because he’s happy) and pass out on their beds the second they get to their apartment.

Zayn wakes up at two in the afternoon the next day with a painful headache, a dry mouth, and a number written along his arm in massive permanent marker print. It says _NAIL FILE :D_ underneath and _U OWE ME TROPHY!!!!!_ and when Zayn rolls over, he can see the beer can trophy propped up against the wall.

He’s still smiling when he texts Niall, hours later, after the pounding in his head’s dulled to a low roar and he and Liam have lounged around pathetically all day, nursing hangovers.

 _I’ll save it._ he sends. _U can keep the next one :)_

He doesn’t get a reply until he’s in bed:

_Hahahahadeal!!!!_

*

Liam tells him Danielle wants to keep things casual, and Zayn almost wants to kiss her on the mouth for that. As it is, Liam is giddy enough to even have a _chance_ that he’s smiling when he walks into their place after their first date. Or - it's not _really_ a date, Zayn doesn’t think. They studied at the _library_ and ate snacks from the vending machine, for God’s sake.

“She says I just got here, and she doesn’t want to stop me from experiencing everything I can,” Liam says dreamily, twirling his key ring around a finger while Zayn sets up a pot of water for some pasta. 

“Hm,” he says.

“Isn’t that so understanding?” Liam asks, hopping up on the counter and peering into the pot. 

“Amazing, really,” Zayn tells him.

“I don’t think I want to date someone else, though. Right now, at least. I just want to ask her out on another date again. Casually,” he assures Zayn, who nods along, “but, you know. To let her know I’m interested.”

“Good plan,” Zayn says, because he’s never going to actively discourage Liam from pursuing someone. 

“Hey,” Liam pokes him hard in the side, gets a slap on the hand with a spoon for his trouble. He laughs, and says, “Have you met anyone, by the way?”

Zayn’s phone buzzes on the table, and he glances at the incoming text from Niall: 

_What are u doin tonight???? THIRSTY THURSDAY come over n get drunk!!!_

And after that: _Tell liam to come too !_ which is odd in general, because Zayn’s not actually sure how Niall knows who Liam is.

Zayn texts back _Making pasta for dinner :) after?_ and says, “Nah, not yet. Not really looking, though." He nudges Liam in the knee to scoot over so Zayn can sit on the counter next to him.

“Don’t they say you always find someone once you stop looking?” Liam asks, and Zayn ditches the spoon for the box of pasta. 

“I think that’s when you lose stuff, not people.”

Liam shrugs, “Yeah, probably.” He slings an arm across Zayn's shoulders and grins. “But, maybe you’ll find someone when you least expect it.”

Zayn’s phone buzzes again:

_BRING THE PASTA ZAYN OH MY GOD_

“The water’s boiling,” Liam says.

Zayn hops off the counter to stick the pasta in. He’s watching it wilt from the heat and he says quietly, “Maybe I already found someone. Maybe they don’t know it yet.”

Liam stands on his tiptoes to watch the pot over Zayn’s shoulder. "Maybe you don’t know it either,” he suggests, patting Zayn’s hip, and Zayn laughs.

“No,” he lowers the heat. “No, I’m pretty sure I do.”

*

Liam has an essay to finish, but says he’ll catch up later, so Zayn heads over to Niall’s dorm hall after dinner with a plate of pasta and a text on his phone that says _Takin shower but a cute curly haired boy will let u up !_. Zayn only has to stand awkward in front of the entrance for a few minutes when he hears, "Zayn?"

He looks up and, “Oh. Harry? You’re-”

“Niall’s roommate,” Harry grins and shakes out his hair. “Yeah. Small world, hm? C'mon.” He grips Zayn’s shoulder and leads him into the building. "Niall takes awhile in the shower, hope you don't mind me in the meantime. Oh, I didn’t get to tell you at the party - nice tattoos," he says, and Zayn blinks down at his arm.

"Thanks," Zayn grins, and he can see a few inked patterns peeking out from under Harry’s jacket, on his wrist so he says, "You, too."

Harry laughs, and heads towards a stairwell. "Yeah, I kind of - uh, I don't know. Let people I like draw on me. Niall's already got a shamrock."

"That's - friendly," Zayn offers and Harry snorts, pushing the door open to the second floor.

"Look like a Lisa Frank notebook threw up on me," he says, but he sounds fond. "Someone'll think they're dumb occasionally, but I dunno.” He shrugs, and unlocks the door to his room. He leans against it, turns his head to look at Zayn: “Can't be dumb if they're about people I love, you know?"

Zayn smiles, says, "Yeah, I know exactly what you mean," and decides he really likes Harry, then.

When they get inside, Zayn’s overwhelmed by the extreme lack of cleanliness. There's clothes and junk food wrappers _everywhere_ and Zayn thinks maybe there was a floor once underneath it all but he's not too sure.

"The mess is something to get used to," a boy who isn't Harry says, and Harry shoves him lightly and climbs over him and into his bed. They've got game controllers and a bowl of popcorn between them. The boy says, by way of introduction, "Louis, like the King. Usually I like to play The Floor Is Lava, it makes navigating around everything lots more fun."

"Right, because you're so organized," Harry rolls his eyes. "Have a seat!"

"Uh?" Zayn steps gingerly over a lumpy mass of smelly towels and gives the one desk chair in the room not covered in anything a dubious look.

"That stain is just tartar sauce," Harry says, and un-pauses whatever game he and Louis are playing, "or maybe come."

Zayn chokes on his spit and Harry says, "Oh, God, I'm kidding! Really, it's tartar sauce, I swear. We had fish last week."

"I'll just... sit on his bed," Zayn says, quite diplomatically, he thinks. Harry waves a hand, too engrossed in the game to be bothered.

"Yeah, go on, Niall won't care."

"Fair warning, though," Louis says, eyes glued to the television screen. "Those stains are _definitely_ come."

*

Zayn watches Harry and Louis play their game - it’s something to do with zombies, and Harry’s awful, but he laughs every time game-him gets his throat ripped out, so he’s a good sport about it, at least. They’re halfway through a level when Niall finally stumbles out of the bathroom, dressed, with wet hair curling around his ears.

"Zayn," he smiles, and flings his used towel across the room at Louis, who ducks. "Where's Liam?"

"He’s coming later - I was gonna ask, how do you know him? I didn't think you met at that party."

"Ooh," Louis says then, like he's just figured something out. He pauses the game right as Harry's character gets attacked (again). " _Zayn_ , right."

"What?"

"So, you're the one who's in love with Liam?" he says, and Zayn tenses. 

Harry punches Louis in the arm. "Do you even know what tact _is_?"

"...Sorry?" Zayn says, voice high and nervous and Niall claps him on the back.

"Yeah, think you were a little drunker than you thought at the party the other night? You sort of mentioned it once or twice."

"Mentioned... what, exactly," Zayn says, and Louis stretches to pat his leg.

"No need to be embarrassed." He widens his eyes. “Love is beautiful, Zayn."

"You're not helping," Harry says, and gives Zayn a sympathetic smile. "I think at one point you said you thought things would different here?"

"Oh, God," Zayn covers his face, wonders if the ground can just open and swallow him up now and save everyone the trouble of this conversation.

"No, it's cool!" Niall hops up on the bed, aims a manic grin Harry's way. "Me an' Harry came up with a plan."

"Yeah, we're gonna help you woo him."

"We're wooing masters," Niall adds, and Zayn would laugh if he didn't think it'd make him vomit, too.

"You want to - sorry, _what_ ," he says, still flabbergasted by what they're offering.

Louis sticks a popcorn in Harry's hair and throws a handful Niall's way - he manages to catch one in his mouth - and explains:

"Harry has this thing where he thinks life is a film. That people should have all these," Louis waves his arm, " _grand moments_ and at some point it definitely rains and you're sad but then you fall in love and the person always loves you, too, and you kiss and everything fades to black."

"That's... very detailed," Zayn says slowly. Then: "You want to make Liam fall in love with me?"

"Not make," Niall corrects. "Ease into. Or whatever. He loves you already, doesn't he? We just gotta - amp it up, right Harry?"

"Through a series of kooky mishaps and friendly advice," Harry nods. "And with a playful indie soundtrack in the background."

“Harry," Zayn feels like he’s losing it, "Harry, you know my life isn't a romantic comedy, right? No matter how much you try and make it one."

"Please, I've seen _Love, Actually_ like... thirty times," Harry says, grinning. "This is going to be _so_ much better.”

“It’s no use trying to stop them,” Louis says, shaking his head. “Harry’s life won’t be complete until he witnesses a changing-clothes-in-a-dressing-room montage, and Niall’s secretly a hopeless romantic.”

Zayn glances at Niall, who shrugs with a satisfied little smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “He’s right.”

“You guys aren’t - we _just met_ ,” Zayn says, trying to gain _some_ kind of hold on where this is going.

“Not true,” Harry's lying down on his bed now, throwing popcorn in the air and trying to catch it with his mouth, “I’ve known Liam since -” a piece of popcorn hits him on the nose, “September. He’s practically family.”

Louis nods to Zayn. “You should trust them. I like Niall. He doesn't ever yell at me, even after I threw up on his pillow the second time we met.”

Zayn glances warily down at the pillow in question, right next to him. Niall laughs and leans into him and says, “He bought me a new one, don’t worry.”

“I am a man of much generosity,” Louis says magnanimously, lifting his chin. “Also, I thought we were getting drunk?”

“Yeah, but after you - nevermind Liam, you don’t even know _me_ ,” Zayn says, and Niall gives him a thoughtful once over.

“Well, that’s why I invited you out. We’re gonna be friends, all of us. And we’ll _get_ to know you. And then we’ll work our magic and Liam’ll fall in love with you and you’ll graduate with honors and get married and adopt like, a billion babies or something and Louis will write a hit one man show about it where he plays every character.”

“Aw, Niall,” Louis wipes a fake tear away. 

“I’m gonna regret this if I agree, aren't I,” Zayn sighs and Niall lets out a cackle when Louis says, “ _But think of my one man show, Zayn_.”

*

“I don’t even want to be an actor, really,” Louis says to Zayn once they’re seated in a rounded booth in a bar Niall _swears_ doesn’t card. “I’m at school to teach.”

“You don’t go here?” 

“Might as _well_ ,” Niall says, nudging Harry towards the bartender, voice rising over the din as they walk away. “He’s here all the time anyway!"

Louis nudges Zayn with an elbow when they're out of sight. "Hey, I meant what I said earlier. You can trust them. They're not going to lead you down a path of, I don't know, heartbreak. Or pranks." He reconsiders this. "Actually, maybe pranks, but not mean ones."

"I trust them," Zayn says, because he kind of does, "it's just. No one's ever known before?"

"It's about time that's changed, then," Louis suggests, and Zayn must look sick to his stomach because Louis frowns for the briefest of moments and then pulls him in and gives him an encouraging grin, goofy and cross-eyed with his tongue sticking out, until Zayn feels himself start to smile back.

"Relax," he reassures Zayn, squeezing a little, "love, friendship, whatever. Everything will work out in the end, you'll see."

"Thought Harry was the sappy one," Zayn says idly, and Louis chuckles and pinches Zayn's side.

"Yeah, yeah," he sighs, like Zayn's being difficult, "just don't _tell_ anyone."

*

They've all got drinks and have been sitting around for an hour at least when Zayn finally hears a familiar voice call his name. There's a hand on the nape of his neck and Liam is standing next to him, so he scoots over in the wraparound booth to make room. 

“Ooh," Harry says as he sits, gleefully, "Hello, _Liam_.”

He sits up, widens his eyes at Louis meaningfully, and Zayn barely resists the urge to bang his head on the table. 

Louis looks considerably more smirking. “ _Hi, Liam_.”

Liam’s mouth does a weird smile-frown thing and he says, “You look like Peter Pan.”

Louis stops smiling and narrows his eyes. “Yeah? Well, where’d all your hair go?” he says, glancing up at Liam's buzz cut that's only just started to grow back out. "Did you lose a bet or something?”

“I just wanted a different look for school,” Liam shrugs.

“And what look was that,” Louis sniffs, unimpressed. “Newborn baby?”

"Zayn!" Niall's voice cuts through them, and they all look at him. "Why don't you buy Liam's drink for him? That would be nice of you. Kind and thoughtful. Right, Harry?"

"Yes," Harry responds dutifully with a short nod. "A perfect gentleman. Don't you think, Liam?"

"Er," Liam glances at Zayn, who is counting to ten in his head with his eyes closed, thanks. "Yeah, I guess?"

Zayn makes what he thinks is a sound of agreement, and Louis says, "Whew, whoever dates him is gonna be really lucky, huh?"

"Yeah," Liam's mouth quirks up at the end at that. "Zayn's a great guy."

"Good boyfriend material," Niall supplies.

"He'd make a good boyfriend for anyone," Liam says, and Harry nods a bit too energetically and spills a bit of his drink.

"Especially his friends!"

"Good friends," Louis says, and Niall slaps his hand on the table hard enough to shake it.

"Best friends, even!"

"I'm going to get Liam a drink," Zayn says loudly, standing up and knocking back his chair a little. He dials back the volume when he adds, "I mean. Um. Coke is fine?"

Liam nods, turns to stare at Louis when he slides over to take Zayn's seat.

"Attractive _and_ considerate," Louis says. "What's not to like?"

"Nothing," Harry says. "And he's funny, too. He's perfect."

"One of a kind," Niall adds, smiling at Zayn as he does so. 

Liam looks between the four of them for a few moments, a wrinkle between his brows, before he says, "I - are you all trying to - date Zayn, or something? He doesn't really do... casual."

Louis just stares at Liam with a vaguely amused tilt of his mouth, before glancing over his head at Zayn.

"Well," he says, like that explains that. "I think we've always liked a bit of a challenge."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It's really nice," Zayn says, “whatever it is. They just - they make it look easy."
> 
> Niall huffs out a laugh, says, "I dunno, I think love's pretty easy if you want it to be. It’s figuring everything else out that’s hard."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (secretly this whole entire fic is about friendship, so that's a thing)

*

When Zayn makes it to Niall and Harry’s dorm again, he brings more pasta - this time, it’s fettuccine with shrimp and bits of garlic, and the second they get into the room, Niall takes the plate from him and pops it in the microwave.

“The first rule of wooing,” he tells Zayn immediately over the hum of the appliance, “is - ”

“You don’t talk about wooing?” Zayn questions.

“ _The first rule of wooing is_ ,” Niall stresses, “there are no rules.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. Have you ever even wooed anyone?”

“I’ve wooed lots of people, Zayn.” He digs into a pencil holder for a semi-clean fork and rubs it on the edge of his shirt. “I’m the wooing master, remember? Wooing is an art form, very few truly understand it.”

“Can you both please stop saying ‘woo’,” Louis says from Harry’s raised bed, where he’s lying on his back, head angled over the edge of the mattress to look at them.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at school? Your own school? It’s Monday,” Zayn says, and Louis tries to shrug and falls off the bed instead.

“Shit - !" He hits the ground with a thump, sits up so he's halfway under the bed. "I didn’t have class.”

The microwave dings and Niall takes the plate out and settles on his bed with a grin. “Really? Because I definitely remember you moaning about some Monday-Wednesday-Friday writing course thing last weekend."

Louis scoots further under the bed and into the shadows. “Okay, so I didn’t have _a lot_ of classes.”

Zayn tilts over sideways to look at Louis. “You know, someone studying to be a teacher who doesn’t actually want to _learn_ is not a really good look.”

“They’re going to make a movie about me one day,” Louis declares, his bare feet peeking out from under the bed. “You’ll see. Louis Tomlinson: Greatest Teacher In The History Of Teaching.”

“That’s a bit overconfident,” Zayn teases.

“ _You’re_ a bit overconfident,” Louis says darkly. And then presses the heels of his palms to his eyes. “Harry was supposed to be back already.”

“Harry’s busy flirting with his professor,” Niall tells him.

“Oh, Flack? Yeah, he told me about her,” Louis says, and Zayn’s eyebrows knit together.

“I thought,” he starts, and then stops, confused.

Niall jerks his chin at him. “What?”

“Well, Lou, aren’t you...?”

Louis sticks his head out from under the bed. “Am I what?”

“Harry’s flirting with his professor,” Zayn repeats, and Louis nods.

“Yes, what’s your point?”

“You’re alright with that?”

“Harry is his own person and I see no reason to judge him based on decisions separate from my own life,” Louis intones, and Niall snorts.

“Okay, Oprah.”

Louis throws a shoe at Niall’s head, who jerks away with his plate held above him. “Watch it! I’ll revoke your dorm room access, Louis, don’t test me.”

Louis sticks his tongue out and stands then, dusts off his jeans and says, “I’m leaving anyway. Gonna go find Harold. Maybe we can negotiate a threesome. That way, he passes his gen ed, and I get to have a threesome. Everyone wins.”

He grabs the shoe from next to Niall, hops from foot to foot as he tugs both on, a thoughtful look coming over him. “I hope one day if I teach teenagers, a student will try to fraternize with me. I’ll say no, obviously. Wouldn’t want a blemish like that to tar my teaching reputation but, you know. It’d be nice.”

“Your life goals _astound_ me,” Niall laughs, and Louis glares at him, though his smile detracts from the gesture.

“Look, all I want is for someone to doodle my name in a notebook and stare at my ass while I write on the board, I don’t think I’m asking for much.”

“I’d stare at you, Louis,” Zayn says with a half-smile, and Louis pats him on the shoulder and grins.

“You’re placating me,” he says, “I get it. But it’s nice of you to say.”

“Nah, I’d doodle like, ‘Mr. Zayn Tomlinson’ in the margins of my English papers. Wear knee high socks-”

“This went somewhere weird faster than usual,” Niall remarks as he digs through his pasta for the last of the shrimp, and Zayn winks at Louis, who quirks his head to the side and smiles so his eyes go squinty.

“I feel like I’m meeting a whole new you, Malik,” he says. “Thought you were going for that Quiet and Mysterious thing but really you just like to get a feel for things, first.”

“Liam says it’s because I don’t trust people easily,” Zayn shrugs, and Louis' mouth crooks up at one end. He rubs a hand quick up and down Zayn’s arm in a comforting way.

“Right, speaking of the human cue ball, think you’ve got some work to do with Niall. I’ll leave you to it.”

He turns around once he’s got the door open, salutes them both. “Godspeed, gentlemen.”

Zayn stares after him, says to Niall, “I don’t know why, but I really want him to like me.”

“That’s because if you’ve got Louis’ approval it sort of feels like you don’t need anyone else’s,” Niall says philosophically as he chews with his mouth open. “Even if his approval and respect are based mostly on ability to tell dirty jokes and how many Twinkies you can eat at one time.”

Zayn raises an eyebrow, and Niall swallows and smiles and says, “Nine.”

“That’s disgusting, Niall.”

“Not as disgusting as eating a measuring cup’s worth of mayonnaise in one sitting.”

Zayn groans out a laugh, and flops onto his stomach on Niall’s bed. “You _didn’t_.”

“A word of advice,” Niall says as he picks up the last forkful of noodles. “If you’re playing truth or dare with Louis, never pick dare.”

“He’s ruthless,” Zayn says sympathetically, and Niall leans over to put the plate on his desk, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You should always bring me pasta,” he tells Zayn who says _okay_ , and Niall’s adding, “Louis’ a good guy, though, at the end of the day. Do you really not trust people easily?”

Zayn nods in a sort-of-agreement.

“But you trust us? Me and Harry?”

“I don’t know,” Zayn says. “I feel like I can? And that’s good enough for now, I guess. Hey, um,” he pillows his head on his arms, glances up at Niall. “Harry and Louis?”

Niall rubs at an eye with his fist, leans over the bed to turn on the game system on the floor. “Is this from earlier still? What?”

"Are they-?" Niall glances at him, upside down and over his shoulder, and Zayn makes a gesture that he figures might pass for _together_.

Niall straightens, bumps up his snapback to scratch at the hair underneath. “They’re... them?” he says eventually, carefully. “To be honest, I kinda stopped trying to figure it out. Not like it’s my business, anyway.”

He gives Zayn a considering look then.

“They’d do anything for each other, though. I do know that."

"It's really nice," Zayn says, “whatever it is. They just - they make it look easy."

Niall huffs out a laugh, says, "I dunno, I think love's pretty easy if you want it to be. It’s figuring everything else out that’s hard."

He tosses a controller Zayn’s way.

“Have you ever told Liam how you felt?”

“No,” Zayn mumbles into his arms, controller forgotten for the time being.

“Why not?”

Zayn lifts his shoulders. “I... I’m not sure? Or. I am, but. I don’t want to ruin things.”

“You really think telling him would ruin your friendship?”

“I just don’t want to make it feel like an obligation,” Zayn says, and Niall’s mouth twists up in confusion. Zayn’s got two years’ worth of memories in him when he adds, “I don’t want _loving me back_ to be an obligation.”

“Why the fuck _would_ it be?”

“Because he’s _Liam_ , and he wants to do everything for everyone, and if I tell him I love him and he doesn’t ever feel the same way about me, then he’s going to constantly beat himself up about it until it’s too much and we. I don’t know, we’d resent each other. And I’d rather feel like this than have him resent me.”

Niall fiddles with the buttons on his controller, and he’s looking at the screen when he says, “I think he can love you. Sometimes people just need a jumpstart to get them going.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“No, I just have faith in people,” Niall says, looking down at him, and he’s so unflinchingly honest about it that Zayn smiles.

“You really think he can?”

“I think no one could ever resent you for anything.”

“What if he and Danielle start dating for real?” Zayn says, and Niall pulls his legs up to his chest and rests his controller on his knees.

“They’re not yet.”

“But what if they _do_?”

“Jesus,” Niall laughs now, but it sounds a touch disapproving. “Kind of hard to do anything when you’re quitting before you start.”

“I’m being realistic.”

“Well, don’t be,” Niall says, distractedly clicking through the game menu - it’s the same one Harry and Louis were playing when Zayn first spoke to them both. “No use in worrying about things that haven’t happened yet.”

“Your optimism is scary,” Zayn says, trying to focus between the split screens. Niall throws his head back and laughs.

“Like I said, I have faith in people.”

*

“Harry’s band is playing at my friend’s party tonight,” Niall announces when they’re at what’s become _their bar_ on a Friday a few weeks later.

“Oh, is this pregaming, then, and not just casual drinking,” Louis says, and downs half his glass in one go.

“Pacing,” Harry reminds him and Louis waves him away. 

“Pacing is for people who don’t want to experience life,” Louis aims a look at Liam, “or people who are so _concerned_ about their stupid kidneys.”

“I’m not getting drunk, Louis,” Liam says, slowly like maybe that will help, and Louis glares.

“You said it fixed itself this year, it’s like you practically have a brand new kidney!”

“Except,” Liam says reasonably, “ _I don’t._ ”

“Is it awful, being so bound by morals all the time?" Louis asks, and Zayn flicks him in the temple. 

“What? I’m just saying, it must be tiring, being as nice as Liam is. It makes me want to corrupt him.”

“The cold, dead heart schtick is getting old, Tomlinson,” Zayn says, and Louis looks like he’s trying to fight a smile.

“What? No, I’m terrible. Horrible. My soul is a bottomless pit of despair,” he says flatly, and Zayn snorts into his beer.

“Maybe you _should_ go into acting, Lou.”

“I’ve actually been preparing a monologue.” Louis leans forward, nods at Niall. "You think your friend will let me perform it at the party?”

“Yeah, probably,” Niall agrees readily, playing along, and Louis grins at him.

“Good, text them and tell them to build me a stage - a proper one, not just a crate to stand on.”

“Sure thing,” Niall nods exaggeratedly. “I’m positive college kids would rather see you than Harry’s alt-indie band.”

“Of course you’re in an indie band,” Zayn smirks.

Harry says idly, “Don’t appreciate your tone,” in a manner that implies he honestly couldn't give a shit about Zayn's tone. Zayn blows a kiss, no harm meant. Harry catches it with a lazy wave of his hand and unfolds it against his cheek, pretends to swoon a bit.

"It's actually a shitty hipster band," Niall says, and Harry kicks him in the shin from underneath the table.

"Stop saying that; I'm not a hipster."

"But your band is shitty?" Liam asks, and Niall and Zayn both hide a snort.

"No, we're just - between sounds right now," Harry says, and then laughs and shrugs in turn. "Nah, yeah, it's pretty shitty."

"Harry's great, though," Niall says, reaching out to pat him on the knee. "He just has a tendency to join bands with really dumb names."

“What’s this one called?” Liam asks, and Louis’ digging into Harry’s bag next to him and pulling out a Sharpie and scribbling something on a napkin before handing it over to Liam.

Zayn looks over Liam’s shoulder to read - the napkin says _F%#$!_ and Liam stares blankly at it for a few moments before looking up.

“I don’t even know how to pronounce this.”

“F-percentage sign-pound symbol-dollar sign-exclamation mark?” Zayn tries, and Niall and Louis erupt into laughter.

“The point,” Louis says while wiping his eyes, “is that you _can’t_ pronounce it.”

“In my own defense, I told them it was a stupid idea,” Harry says sheepishly. “They just kept saying it was ironic.”

“I’m not entirely sure irony is a thing anymore, Harry,” Zayn says, tilting the napkin this way and that. 

“Maybe it is,” Liam shrugs. “Maybe the irony is ironic.”

“Maybe,” Louis says, “who knows how deep the ironic rabbit hole goes with hipsters, anyway.”

“I thought if you were in a band your name would be an onomatopoeia with some kind of punctuation at the end. ZAP! or WHOOSH!,” Zayn says, and squints at the napkin. “This is somehow worse.”

He puts the napkin down, reaches out to pat Harry’s hand. “But as long as you’re happy.”

Harry shrugs then, says solemnly, “Nah, I was thinking of quitting. Maybe do my own thing from now on. I think I’ve played at a billion different basements and house parties with a dozen different bands, but none of them actually ever _go_ anywhere. There’s no drive there.” 

"No direction,” Niall teases, pushing into Harry’s side. “None!"

"No Direction," Harry hums, drums his fingers on the table. "That’s a good band name, maybe."

"Kind of aimless," Zayn says. "You'd think it’d wanna point somewhere."

"Point where?" Harry asks, and Zayn says, "A direction."

"Yeah, but which."

"I dunno," Zayn raises his shoulders, "any one."

Liam offers, “I like North?” and Zayn laughs and finishes off his beer just as Niall starts to stand. 

“Let’s go - if Harry’s band is playing they’ll need time to set up.”

“I think I’m going to need more alcohol,” Louis says as they head out. He slides an arm around Harry’s shoulders and pulls him in.

Harry stumbles along with a frown. “C’mon, guys. It’s not gonna be that bad.”

*

“Harry, this place smells like patchouli and entitlement,” Louis hisses once they’re inside. “Do you feel at home?”

Harry ducks out from under his arm. “Shut up,” with a smile, and ambles off in the direction of his bandmates. 

(There’s a lot of plaid and big glasses and Chelsea Boots involved. Zayn’s pretty sure he’s going to enjoy this no matter what happens.)

“You’re friends with everyone, aren’t you,” Zayn hears Liam say to Niall, who grins and runs a hand through his hair.

“I guess? I like talking to people.”

“Makes me nervous,” Liam admits quietly, and Niall tilts his head to assess him, glancing at Zayn as he does, and then chucks him lightly under the chin with a fist.

“So hang with Zayn. Everything’s better when you’re around people you like, right?”

Liam nods and smiles. “Yeah, it is.” 

“Good. I’m gonna go try and find beer that’s not purposefully shitty,” Niall says, and points to them. “You two want anything?”

“I’m good," Zayn says, and Liam shakes his head. “No, thanks.”

He leaves, and Zayn and Liam find an unoccupied sofa to sit on as they wait for the party to pick up. They watch Harry’s band set up and people start trickling in as the hour passes, and they’re talking about nothing in particular when Liam puts a hand on his knee and says, “I’m really glad you’re here.”

Zayn feels warm and buzzed and he smiles back, too silly maybe, but it’s Liam’s favorite. “Yeah? Me, too. It actually looks like it might be fun.”

“No, but,” Liam tries to scoot closer. “Like, I’m happy we’re doing this together. College, or whatever. I don’t think I’d have half as much fun or - well, I don’t think I’d do much of anything good if I didn’t have you with me.”

Zayn knocks their foreheads together, gentle. “You’d be okay, you know. You have to trust yourself more.”

“I don’t like being on my own.”

“You’re not,” Zayn assures him. “And look - I think we’ve got a gang now.”

He gestures towards where the band is - Harry is giving Louis a piggyback ride, and Niall is standing on his tiptoes, trying to pour beer into Louis’ mouth. Liam chuckles, buries his head in Zayn’s shoulder and grips his bicep.

“They’re a nice gang. I like them.”

Niall accidentally spills the beer on Louis, who splutters, and Harry’s laughing too hard to hold him up anymore. Louis grabs Niall, rubs his beer-soaked face into Niall’s hair, and Zayn says, “Kind of rough around the edges, but they're alright.”

Harry’s band is pretty good, all earlier teasing aside. Not exactly Zayn’s thing, but Harry has a presence about him - a confidence that seems to charm the crowd. They’re all bopping along with drinks in hand, and Louis and Liam have their phone is in the air, waving them back and forth slowly. Harry, for his part, is mostly trying not to look at them and laugh. Niall’s dancing around Louis a lot quicker than the tempo allows, laughing and taking clumsy sips of beer in turn. Then Liam does this weird shimmy thing as their last song finishes and grabs Zayn’s hand to twirl him around and Zayn says, voice raised, “Kinda like hipster parties, I think.”

“It’s the music,” Niall says as the band finishes, and Louis shakes his head. 

“It’s Harry!” he whoops, clapping hard. 

“You’re biased,” Zayn laughs, and Louis shrugs and smiles because, well, _yeah_. 

Harry sticks the mic back in its stand, and steps forward to the four of them. Louis hugs him, plants a kiss on his cheek. “You were amazing!”

“Thanks,” he says, and then he’s automatically reaching out for Niall, and Liam, and Zayn and it morphs into a drunken, sweaty group hug.

“Is this a normal thing now?” Zayn asks, “Like, are group hugs normal?”

“This is totally normal,” Louis says as Niall ducks his head under his chin. “Don’t act like you don’t want in on this lovefest.”

Zayn chuckles, gets tugged in closer with Liam behind him, and Niall picks his head up and murmurs, “Hey, you alright?”

“Yeah,” Zayn smiles, Liam’s hands steady and strong on his back and Harry, Niall and Louis crowded in around him. “I’m great.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liam's breath is mingling with Zayn's, and he murmurs, "Sure you're okay?"
> 
> Zayn nods, eyes still closed, and Liam taps a thumb against the pulse point of his neck. 
> 
> He puts his other hand to Zayn's chest, tells him, "Your heart's beating really fast."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I distinctly remember saying at some point that this would be "around 15k" but that is clearly a lie. That is clearly the most lyingest lie I've ever told.

*

“Okay, but what if... what if our atoms are tiny planets, and our organs are solar systems? Would that make our bodies galaxies?” Niall spreads his arms out, head tipped over the back of the sofa as he stares at the ceiling. “And does that mean that we’re all part of a larger body? Am I in some dude’s colon right now? I don’t even know.”

“Maybe I’m in a kidney that’s suddenly started working again and my owner still won’t drink a lot even though he can,” Louis clicks a finger gun at Liam, who rolls his eyes. 

“No, Niall’s right.” Harry’s eyes are wide, and he digs his feet in Niall’s side. “We’re like... atoms? We’re _atoms_.”

Zayn is snickering from his place on the floor of his and Liam’s apartment, hand over his eyes, shoulders shaking. He says, “This is so stupid. I am somehow both too high and not high enough for this conversation.”

“I’m not high at all,” Liam frowns.

Louis sits up a bit on his elbows from next to Zayn. “You just spent an hour trying to convince us to watch Muppet Babies on YouTube.”

“I like Kermit,” Liam shrugs, and adds, “isn’t there supposed to be a contact high? Like, that’s a thing, right?”

“Maybe you should just smoke. I feel like that’s a reasonable solution,” Niall says.

Liam looks like he’s considering it for a moment as he sits cross-legged, arm resting on a sofa cushion by Harry’s side. He looks down at Zayn. “Fuck it. Can I have one of the brownies you made?”

Zayn shakes his head. “Don’t think you want that, Liam. It’ll end up hitting you when you least expect it.”

“Saving mine for tomorrow morning,” Niall grins. “Maybe that required stats class will be fun instead of making me want to slam my head against a computer keyboard until I blackout.”

“Wonderful imagery, Niall, thanks,” Louis says, and then smiles and waggles his eyebrows at Liam. “Hey, I know what’ll be fun.”

“Streaking,” Harry says with a confident nod, and gets a chorus of _no, Harry_ in return. 

Louis pats Harry’s head in a conciliatory manner. "Time and place," he says, and then climbs over Zayn to reach Liam. “Liam, wanna do a shotgun?”

“What’s a shotgun?”

“Excuse to kiss someone,” Niall says with his eyes closed, laughing.

Liam looks between Zayn and Louis. "How do you do it?”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Louis says, grinning, and he turns to poke Zayn in the chest. “Pack another bowl?”

“Already on the table,” Zayn gestures in the general vicinity of it, too lazy at the moment to do much else. 

“Lighter?” 

“My pocket,” Zayn says, turning onto his stomach and pillowing his head in his arms. 

Harry leans over, says, “Kinky,” and digs into Zayn’s back pockets with both hands. Zayn peeks up at him, gets curls in his face for his troubles, and Harry winks when he pulls away, shiny lighter in hand. Harry nods at Liam, takes the bowl from Louis and holds it to his mouth. 

“Watch and learn,” he says, and lights the bowl, inhales on a three count, passes it off quick to Niall while it’s still lit. He beckons for Louis to come closer. Louis scoots forward towards the sofa on his knees, and when he’s near enough, Harry tugs him in by the front of his shirt. He closes his mouth over Louis’, and tiny wisps of smoke curl into the air between them as Louis’ chest expands on an inhale. 

Louis leans back on his heels, angles his head to smile at Liam. He lets out a rush of breath and smoke through his nose, and they all wait expectantly until Liam tilts his shoulders this way and that and says, “Yeah, okay, I’ll try it."

Louis lets out a whoop. "Yes! I am officially on my way to corrupting you, young Liam! Won’t even know how to _spell_ virtue when this is all over.”

“Louis,” Zayn says in casual warning, smiling still, and Louis just hits him on the chest with the back of his palm.

“Relax, Zayn, you can corrupt in other ways, I promise.”

“ _Louis_.” It’s Niall this time, cracking an eye open. He says Louis’ name with a small laugh though, right before he hands the bowl and lighter to Zayn, and Zayn’s not too troubled either as he sits up and takes a hit, so Louis just gives a cheerful shrug. 

“Right, so who’s up for it. Pop Liam’s shotgun cherry,” he leers suggestively at Zayn. “ _Malik_?”

“Um,” Zayn exhales, taps his fingers against the bowl and he thinks he does, he thinks he _really fucking wants to_ , but he and Liam’ve never kissed each other like that. He doesn’t want _that_ to be the first time.

He gives the bowl to Louis. “No, I’m. I’m probably gonna pass out soon, anyway, man, I’m done.”

If Louis’ surprised, he doesn’t show it, just lifts a hand and adjusts so he’s sitting cross-legged in front of Liam. “Ready?” he asks, and holds the bowl a short way from his mouth in preparation.

Liam gives Zayn a wary look, and Zayn shakes his head against the throw pillow under his head. “S’ok, Liam. It’s fun.”

“You promise?”

Zayn smiles. “I promise.”

“C’mon, Kidney Boy, let’s go,” Louis nudges him with the hand holding the lighter and Liam laughs and rubs the back of his neck. 

“It’s like you’re all plotting behind my back to get me to try new things.”

Niall snorts. “Liam, you don’t even know the _half_ of it.”

*

In the middle of November, Harry bursts into Zayn and Liam’s apartment with Louis and Niall (and another boy and girl Zayn’s never seen before) in tow, says something about going ice skating, _it’s the perfect weather for it guys_.

“It’s too cold out,” Zayn mutters as he heads to the kitchen to preheat the oven for dinner. They all follow him into the open area, Niall right behind, who says, “Pasta?” 

“In the back, behind the eggs,” Zayn says with a wave towards the refrigerator. Niall opens the door gleefully, pulls out a plastic container from dinner two nights ago and hops on the counter to eat.

“I can... heat that up for you,” Liam says, watching Niall with a concerned look, and Niall shakes his head. 

“M’good, thanks,” he mumbles through a mouthful of food.

Louis raises an eyebrow. “Can you even _breathe_ when you shovel it in like that?”

“‘till pre’ier ‘an ‘ou,” Niall tries, and Louis snatches the container away to take a bite. 

“At least _share_ , you heathen. I just spent two-plus hours driving here, I’m starving,” he says, and Niall swallows and grins. 

“Heathen,” he repeats with a perfect imitation of Louis' eyebrow raise. “Fancy word there. You wanna go start a Scrabble club instead of stealing my food?”

Louis makes a disgruntled sound as he and Niall start fighting over the cold pasta while Zayn closes the oven. He ooks up at the only two people in the room he _doesn’t_ know on a (probably weirdly) intimate level.

“I’d apologize,” he says, “but you came with them, so I’m sure you already know what you’ve gotten yourself into it.” 

“Pretty much,” the girl says with a smile.

Louis’ got Niall in a headlock and he jerks his chin at her, “That’s El - Eleanor. Goes to my school.” 

The boy next to Harry raises a hand, gives a lazy salute. “I’m Nick.”

Liam waves back. “Your voice sounds familiar.”

“He deejays for our school,” Harry says, smiling as he walks around to whip Louis’ beanie off his head and tries to stuff his own hair into it. “He’s great at it.”

“Oh, yeah, I listened to it once,” Louis says, petting Niall now that they’ve appeared to come to a truce (Niall feeds him a forkful of pasta every couple of bites, it works out). Nick nods at him, curious.

“Yeah? What’d you think?”

“Couldn’t tell you, fell asleep,” Louis says blithely, and Harry laughs; the beanie falls and Nick makes a face at Louis when Harry goes to pick it up.

“Anyway,” Harry tries to plop the beanie back on but it slips off again. “Ice skating?”

“Harry, here,” Eleanor digs into her bag, pulls out a headband and Harry beams. 

“Thanks!” He pushes his hair back with the headband, and the beanie stays on this time. “If we leave now, we can get there before the rush.”

“There’s an ice skating rush?” Zayn frowns. “Even more reason not to go. Too many people.”

“Miser!” Niall shouts, and Liam pushes at Zayn gently with a smile.

“Zayn doesn’t wanna go because he can’t skate.”

“I can _skate_ , I just don’t want to fall,” he says in a matter-of-fact way. “And die in some kind of tragic freak accident.”

“Yeah, but think of all the ice-related puns they could use for your obit,” Louis says. “ _Fun Night Out For College Students Has Chilly Ending_.’”

“Always looking on the bright side, Lou,” Zayn says sarcastically and Louis aims a kiss his way.

“I’ll take photos,” he promises. “Make sure you don’t look ugly.”

“Ah,” Niall puts the empty container on the counter and pats his stomach. “Friendship.”

“Ice skating,” Harry repeats, and pulls Nick and Eleanor back towards the door by their arms. “C’mon, let’s go, let’s go.”

“Wait, can I call Dani?” Liam says, and Louis pats Zayn on the shoulder as he passes. 

“Yeah,” Harry says, “sure. Have her meet us there though, okay?”

Liam nods, tries to dial while slipping his coat on and Zayn sighs and shuts the oven off, scowls as he grabs his coat and heads to the door because he’s going to _die_ tonight, probably get his arm chopped off from a skate or something. They’re making their way out when Liam says sweetly, “Hey, babe,” and, “wait, hold on.”

He butts Zayn in the shoulder with his head as Zayn locks the door behind him. The rest of the group is making their way downstairs, but Zayn hangs back and gives him an expectant look. Liam smiles and says, “Won’t let you fall, you know.”

Zayn gives him a quick, soft smile in return, and slides his fingers under Liam’s chin.

“I know,” he says.

*

“Ice skating is stupid,” Nick says grumpily to Zayn, trying to push himself up after falling for the fifth time in an hour.

Louis skates over to them, holds out a hand, “Don’t blame the ice for your deficiency, Nicholas,” he says, and Nick gives his hand the most untrustworthy look he can muster. Louis rolls his eyes. “I’m not going to drop you.” There’s a glint in his eye. “Harry’s watching.”

“So generous,” Nick spits out, but grabs his hand anyway. Louis hauls him up, gives him a grin and skates away towards where Eleanor and Harry are, sliding to a graceful stop right in front of them. Nick’s still narrowing his eyes. He says with a casual air, “I should hate him, probably.”

“Kind of hard, I’ve noticed,” Zayn comments, and Nick looks at him and bites back a smile.

“Hey, uh,” he raises his eyebrow, nods once at where Zayn’s gripping the edge of the rink. “You gonna let go of that anytime soon?”

“Nah,” Zayn wobbles, and grips tighter. “Figured I’d just stay here. You know. Observe. People watch.”

“Your body kind of gets numb after awhile, doesn’t hurt so much,” Nick tells him, and Zayn narrows his eyes. 

“I’m good, thanks.”

Nick, still shaky on his feet, holds his hands up and grins as he skates away inexpertly. “Suit yourself. Hey, Harry!”

“Don’t mind me, I’ll just be standing here,” Zayn calls after him. “Trying not to die.” 

“Overdramatic,” he hears Liam remark then with a laugh. 

Zayn smiles back, almost falls, and goes back to his death grip on the edge. “Are you having fun?” he asks, and Liam nods with bright eyes and flushed cheeks. “Where’s Danielle?”

“Left her with Niall so I could help you.”

“Don’t need help, I like standing,” Zayn says breezily. “Totally cool with not moving from this spot ever.”

Liam laughs again, holds out his hands. “C’mon.”

“More inclined to trust gravity than you,” Zayn shakes his head, and Liam sighs. 

“Please?” he tilts his head, like a puppy, Zayn thinks. “Can’t just stand there all night terrified.”

“Liam, I am _going to die_ ,” Zayn says with wide eye. Liam _hmphs_ , closing a gloved hand over both his wrists. 

“I said I wouldn't let you fall. The middle part’s the best, there’s so much room.” He scrunches his nose up. “I mean, I’m not gonna _make_ you.”

Zayn quirks an eyebrow. "No?"

“Nope.” He swings his arms. “But I will ask again very nicely and do that thing with my eyebrows that Harry says is cheating until you feel guilty and skate with me anyway. So, please grab my hand and skate with me?”

There’s a long pause.

Zayn lets his head fall back and sighs. “Y’know, dunno why everyone says you’re nice. This is clearly an abuse of power.”

Liam smiles. “I play to my strengths.”

He holds his hands out again, waits. Zayn lets go one at a time, and he tries to keep his legs from shaking too much as Liam starts to pull him towards the center of the rink.

“I still don’t understand how you _skate backwards_ ,” Zayn tells him, knees knocking together. “This is witchcraft.”

“Practice,” Liam corrects.

"Mm-mm, witchcraft.”

They fall silent for a few moments, Liam leading him and Zayn watching their skates glide over the rink. Liam squeezes his hands. “You’re doing great, Zayn,” he says over the dozens of other voices of people around them. Zayn huffs, but he’s tamping down a smile, too. 

“Have a decent teacher, I guess,” he says. Liam tugs him a little closer. Zayn looks up over his shoulder, can see they're nearing the others, but without the focus on his feet, he loses his balance and trips.

Zayn knocks into Liam, and Liam knocks into the ground and laughs even while he’s also grimacing in pain. Zayn tries to stand, falls back down, then just gives up and looks at Liam. “Shit, sorry, you okay?”

Liam’s still laughing, squinting against the bright lights of the rink. “Yeah, think I just broke my tailbone. It's fine.”

“Right, so nothing too bad,” Zayn says, a hand on Liam’s chest. 

Liam runs a finger along his hand, pats it. “Help me up?”

“I don’t feel like taking you down with me a second time,” Zayn says, even though he’s pretty content lying on Liam, to be honest. 

The corners of Liam’s eyes scrunch up from his grin. “Fair enough.” He nods at someone above them. “Niall?” 

“Sick fall, Zayn looked like his life was flashing before his eyes,” Niall says as he helps Zayn up. Harry gives Liam a hand while Zayn brushes off his jeans.

“That’s because it did,” he tells Niall. “I also think I had a heart attack.” 

“Well, as long as you’re not exaggerating,” Niall laughs, and their friends gather around them then, Danielle rubbing a hand over Liam’s head and muttering, _poor baby_ while he smiles at her. She grabs a fuzzy hat out of her bag, plops it on his head and he smiles wider and kisses her. 

Zayn clears his throat says, “That’s enough action for me tonight, I think,” and he maybe means it in more way than one. “I’m gonna get some hot chocolate.”

“I’ll come with,” Niall tells him, and after collective shouts for hot chocolate for _everyone_ he waves a hand and says, “yeah, yeah, okay, my treat. Come meet us in a few.”

*

“I feel kind of like a third wheel,” Niall says once they get seated with their drinks in the indoor cafe attached to the rink. “Or, well,” he glances towards the rink, “seventh? I guess? What is that, is that like a lopsided van?”

“That makes me the eighth wheel then.”

“Maybe not forever.” 

“I don’t,” Zayn pauses, knits his eyebrows together and shakes his head down at the table. “He looks at her like she’s - like she’s _everything_.” He puts his chin on his hand, gives Niall a tired smile. “I think if I was a different person, or if she was, I’d hate her.”

“Well, you’re not,” Niall tells him. “You’re good.”

“Not entirely. Still would rather be, y’know,” he nods towards the rink, and they watch Liam untying Danielle’s skates, leaning up to kiss her for a moment. “Kind of wish she was mean, at least, so I could _find_ a reason to dislike her.”

Niall shrugs, takes a swipe of the whip cream concoction Harry texted them for, and asks, “Are they officially dating yet?”

Zayn shakes his head. “He says they’re taking it slow.”

“Slow,” Niall says, looking out the window as the group makes its way to the cafe. “Slow’s good.”

*

The Friday before they leave for the holidays for a month, Harry suggests a sleepover at Liam and Zayn’s. "As a goodbye,” he says, and when Zayn reminds him that they’re all coming back, Harry sniffs and says, “It’ll be a new year by then. 2013 you could be completely different.” No significant others of any kind allowed, he adds. Just the five of them. They all agree, and Louis makes the trek down even though he’s still got finals for another week at his own university.

They’ve got enough booze to last the winter at their apartment, and Niall brings truly excellent weed from his brother’s dealer-friend, and Harry brings Twister, because of course he does. Louis eventually suggests Truth or Dare halfway through a bottle of vodka. 

“What’s a sleepover without a little bit of fun,” he says, when Zayn gives him a _look_. Liam says, with the adore of something who knows just how futile his words are, “Can’t we just play Twister again? I’d rather wrap myself up like a pretzel; I don’t trust you with this.”

Louis raises his eyes to the ceiling, then reaches for his overnight bag on the floor and pulls out a notebook and mechanical pencil. “Fine,” he says, and sits cross-legged on the sofa. “Since you’re all boring.”

They gather close, watch him print _RULES FOR BORING PEOPLE_ neatly at the top of a new sheet of lined paper. 

_1) No soul revealing secrets_

“In case any of you are pregnant and are waiting until after the holidays to say,” he tells them seriously, glancing at Zayn. “Or whatever else there is, I don’t know. Pregnancy is probably first, though.”

_2) No streaking_

Harry frowns at that.

“Are we gonna play, or are you gonna sit here and write rules all day,” Niall asks, and Louis glares at him and says, “One more.”

_3) No drinking dares_

They all kind of stare at him at that and he shrugs and says, “What? Don’t really want to have to hold someone’s hair back while they puke into a toilet.”

“That was one time,” Harry mumbles.

He sets the notebook down on the coffee table in front of him, pushes the holiday candles Liam bought around it. “There,” he says, “my word is law. Also, I get first round.”

Everything goes fine, pretty harmless, though Zayn thinks Louis’ working up to something from the look in his eyes. Harry gets dared to show everyone his ears, and he makes a show of it, humming some made up burlesque tune as he tucks his hair back, gives them a sultry look over his shoulder. When it’s Niall’s turn, he closes his eyes and shudders and says, “Like I’m ever going to pick dare around you again, Lou, I think I have post traumatic stress disorder from the mayonnaise incident.” 

“Chicken,” Louis eggs him on, and Niall shakes his head.

"Truth.”

Louis scratches his chin, thinking. “Right, have you jerked off thinking about anyone in this room?”

Niall rolls his eyes and flips Louis off. "Yes. _Moving on_.”

“Who, though!” Louis says, shaking him, and Niall grins up at him from the floor, his braces glinting from the candlelight. 

“Didn’t ask that, did you?”

Louis shakes his fists at Niall, the threat ineffectual from the way he’s also leaning down into him and snuffling into his neck. “Okay, get off,” Niall says, and makes no move to actually push Louis away. “Liam, your turn.”

“I pick dare,” Liam says immediately with a short nod, and even Harry looks startled. Liam's confidence wilts. "I'm... living a little?"

“Liam, are you sure - ?"

“No take backs,” Louis says gleefully over Harry, rubbing his hands together. “Oh, God, no take backs, he already said it. Liam!” He laughs. “Dared! I think I’ve been preparing for this moment my whole life. This is definitely going to be the focal point of a future memoir.”

“I feel like you should be twirling a handlebar mustache as you say this,” Zayn tells him, and Louis shrugs and says, “Draw it on then,” so Zayn snorts and rises to grab a Sharpie from his room. 

He draws a mustache over Louis’ top lip when he gets back, careful to make the ends curl, and when he caps the marker and Louis strokes it thoughtfully. “Great, now that we’ve got that settled, Liam - ”

“No, I regret this immediately,” Liam says to the room.

“Liam, I dare you," Louis begins, pointing imperiously at him from the sofa, "to kiss Zayn."

Liam's brows jump in surprise, and everyone looks at Zayn, who feels like his heart's about to beat right out his chest. A few seconds ago, he was grinning, but now his body suddenly feels ten degrees too hot and sweat already starts to prickle under his arms.

There’s a beat of silence, and Harry stutters and says, "You can - you can pick a different one if you don't want to, Liam, Lou's just being dumb - "

"No, I'll do it."

Harry can't quite figure out how to close his mouth after that, and Zayn's almost ready to vomit.

"You - what?"

"See?" Louis shrugs. "He's up for it!"

"Yeah, it's just a game," Liam says, and Louis' face falls a bit as he glances at Zayn at that, like he's maybe just now figuring out it's a bad idea.

Zayn wants to leave. Right now. His chest feels tight and he thinks he'll hear Liam say _just a game_ in his head for a long time after this.

"Zayn..?"

Liam's crawling over to him on the floor, and sits up on his knees so they're face-level with each other.

"You're okay?" Liam asks, checking, and this is not how Zayn wanted this to happen, it’s exactly like when Liam shotgunned for the first time, but he can't back out without making Liam curious.

"No." His voice is dry and cracking. He clears his throat. "I mean, yeah, it's fine."

Over Liam's shoulder, Zayn can see Niall frowning at nothing in particular and Harry glaring at Louis. Liam leans up on his knees, puts a hand on the back of Zayn's neck. He laughs and raises a shoulder. "What's a kiss between best friends, right?"

"No big deal," Zayn says, tries to make the words come out nonchalant. Harry pinches Louis’ side.

Liam doesn't hesitate, just shifts forward, catches Zayn’s bottom lip between his own, and Zayn makes a sound at the back of his throat he couldn't help if he _tried_. He squeezes his eyes shut as tight as they go, and Liam kisses him confidently, with a slight smile, even, determined to get it right like he does with everything else.

Zayn's got a loose grip on the open collar of Liam's plaid button down as Liam presses one more kiss to the corner of his mouth, and when he pulls away, it's not by much.

His breath is mingling with Zayn's, and he murmurs, "Sure you're okay?"

Zayn nods, eyes still closed, and Liam taps a thumb against the pulse point of his neck. 

He puts his other hand to Zayn's chest, tells him, "Your heart's beating really fast."

"Hot," Zayn says, shuffling back quickly and opening his eyes. Liam's still sitting up on his knees, the hand that was on Zayn's neck hanging in mid-air. "It's - um - hot," Zayn says distractedly, standing, and grabs his jacket as he heads to the door.

"Zayn, are you - ?"

"No, I'm good," he says, and wipes at his mouth. "I, uh, it’s hot in here and I need a smoke. So I'm gonna. Go outside. To smoke."

Liam looks unconvinced. Zayn swallows and says, "I'm _fine_ ," even as his throat burns.

*

Zayn's on his second cigarette in front of the apartment when someone comes up to his side. He flicks ash off the tip, doesn't look because he already knows who it is.

Louis sighs. "Shit, Zayn, I'm - that was really stupid."

"It was," Zayn nods.

"I'm so fucking sorry, I just thought that it'd be fun, you know."

"Fun," Zayn says flatly. "Right."

"No, fuck, I don't - not to laugh at you, Zayn, _God_. I'd never do that. I just thought that he'd like, kiss you and he'd..."

"He'd what?"

Louis' quiet for a few moments, and then he tugs on the sleeve of Zayn's jacket. "That he'd kiss you, and he'd know. That you were it, or whatever. I don't know."

"That only happens in movies, Louis," Zayn says, and takes a drag of his cigarette. He's too angry to apologize when a pick up in wind makes the smoke blow into Louis' face.

"I know, it was stupid, seriously," Louis says again, waving the smoke away impatiently. "I think maybe Harry's love of romantic comedy endings is rubbing off on me. Think he's rubbing off on me in general, really," Louis jokes, but careful, like he's not sure if he can.

He _can_ , but Zayn doesn't feel like laughing just yet. "I'm not mad,” Zayn says, because that's what Louis really wants to know. “Or - well, yeah, I am but. Not at you. Mostly."

He stubs out the second cigarette with the toe of his boot, and his hand twitches for another automatically. He lets out a short breath and his eyes sting and he feels so _dumb_ and drunk and a little high, still, and a million other things when he says, "I didn't want - if we ever - I didn't want _that_ to be the first time he - "

And his words get lost in Louis' neck as Louis pulls him, and attempts to drown him in a hug and oversized sweater. "Sorry, sorry, sorry," he mutters fiercely, grabbing onto Zayn tight. "I don't - that _sucks_ , Zayn, I’m sorry, that was such a shitty thing to do."

"It's fine," Zayn mumbles into Louis' sweater, and Louis laughs weakly.

"It's not,” he says. “You can punch me if you want. I mean, free pass, man. I’ll even let Niall hold my arms back so I can’t flinch. Anywhere you want. Maybe not the balls, because I want kids someday, but like. Anywhere else. My gut! I think if you punch someone there hard enough they like, shit themselves or something - ”

“Louis,” Zayn’s laughing now, which is the point, he thinks, and Louis stills, kisses his cheek. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again, soft. It sounds like he’s apologizing for more than the dare. 

Zayn pulls away then, shrugs, and wipes at the wetness around his eyes. “Eh,” he smiles, and it’s watery, but it’s there. “Just gotta roll with the punches, I guess.”

Louis slides an arm across his shoulders, steers him back towards the front door. “Let’s go back in, it’s freezing out here. When it’s your turn, I’ll do whatever you want. No holds barred truth or dare.”

“I’m going to make you eat a cup of mayonnaise,” Zayn says promptly, and Louis laughs as they head inside and up the stairs. 

“I changed my mind, you can punch me in the balls.”

*

That night, when Liam’s in his room talking to Danielle on the phone, Zayn hears a whispered conversation between Niall and Louis as he lies curled up in a recliner, trying to sleep. He cracks open an eye from the chair, sees Harry’s passed out on Louis’ thighs, a wrinkle of consternation between his eyebrows. Louis absentmindedly smooths it out and says, "It's fine, we're okay. Feel like shit, but I’ll make it up to him."

They assume Zayn’s sleeping, so he closes his eyes and pretends. “You don’t think sometimes,” Niall says, and Louis lets out a breath. 

“I know.”

It’s quiet, aside from Liam’s murmured conversation in the other room. “Did you see his _face_? I don’t - I don’t want to keep doing this if it’s...” 

He trails off. Louis says, when it's clear Niall isn't going to finish, “He’s not gonna stop being friends with us if it doesn’t work. Is that what you’re afraid of?”

“No,” Niall says, quick, and then: “I don’t know, maybe.”

“He’s not,” Louis says again. “He loves us, they both love us.”

One of them shifts. Niall whispers, “I don’t wanna see him get hurt. I don’t - that look on his face tonight, it sucked. I know he might have said otherwise, but we were _all_ mad at you, Louis.” 

“I wish you’d just yell at me,” Louis whispers back, hoarse and with a nervous laugh. “I can deal with yelling, easy."

“Won't,” Niall says. “Just - be careful, okay?”

Zayn hears Liam say goodnight, and Louis says, “He’s coming back.”

“I’ll wake up Zayn,” Niall says in a normal voice, and Zayn keeps his eyes closed until he feels Niall shake him gently. 

He makes a show of yawning and stretching, and when he opens his eyes, Niall’s smiling in a subdued way. “Hey,” he says, “you’re gonna fuck up your back sleeping here, I’ll help you to your room.” 

Zayn looks at him, doesn’t pick his head up for a moment. He says, “Thanks,” as much as he can mean it. Niall rubs his shoulder, and his smile looks a little less sad. 

“Don’t mention it.”

*

“What do you mean you’re asking Danielle to come with?”

Zayn looks up from where he’s sitting on Liam’s bed with his sketchpad, watches Liam swing around in the swivel chair at his desk. 

“For Christmas,” Liam says. “And New Year’s.”

“I thought,” Zayn glances down at his drawing and tries again, “I thought you were going slow?”

“We are. I haven’t asked her to be my girlfriend,” Liam says, and folds his hands together in his lap. “I wouldn’t have asked this, either, except she’s from out of state, you know. Can’t afford the flight back home this year, and she was going to be at her place by herself, since Niall’s brother is going home with Niall, obviously, and their other roommate’s transferring out, or something.” 

He looks anxious now, asks, “Is it weird? That I asked? She seemed happy, but maybe it’s weird. I shouldn’t have asked, right?”

Zayn closes his eyes for the briefest of moments, sighs and says, “No - Liam, of course you should have asked. She would’ve been alone for the holidays, that’s no fun.”

Liam gives him a relieved smile, and he trusts Zayn’s word so much that it makes something in Zayn’s gut twist. “Good,” he looks down at his hands, and his smile is softer, now. “I think my mom’s gonna love her.”

“I think she will, too,” Zayn says, mostly because he’s never met a human being Liam’s mother didn’t like in the years he’s known her. (He knows where Liam gets it from, that genuine sort of loveliness that runs in him, always.)

“But we’re going slow,” Liam assures him, and Zayn’s nodding along now, even though he already knows what’s going to happen.

“Slow,” he says, uselessly, and repeats Niall’s words from a few weeks ago: “Slow is good.”

*

Zayn calls it, from the second he sees Danielle hug Liam’s parents and sisters in turn, from the second he sees Liam’s face as she does so.

Liam goes home for the holidays mostly single, and comes back to school with a girlfriend.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The three of you...” Zayn laughs. “The three of you always ask but like. I want - ”
> 
> He falters. Louis takes a sip of his coffee and waits. 
> 
> “He’s with Danielle, right? And he’s happy with her and I just - I want him to be happy,” Zayn says, rubbing at the space between his eyes. “I mean, if you love someone, you just want them to be happy, don’t you? Even if they’re happy with someone else?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A summary for this could be, "lots of drinking and sexual innuendos and feelings."

*

The night Liam and Danielle go on their first “official” date as a couple, Harry and Niall barge into Zayn's place some time into the evening with twin looks of determination and bags filled with groceries.

"Right, so." Harry sets his bag down on the kitchen counter and pulls things out. "I got ice cream, but I didn't know your favorite so I got a variety. And then I figured maybe it was too cold for ice cream so I _also_ bought cake mix and hot chocolate packets and mini marshmallows."

"Hi, Harry," Zayn says, and peers into the bag Niall’s got. "What'd you bring, then?"

Niall shrugs. "DVDs and alcohol. Lots of both."

"We figured we could watch something and bake and drink. Probably DVDs and bake first, because you know." Harry waves a hand. "I don’t feel like drunkenly burning down a kitchen and dying tonight."

"This is really nice," Zayn comments, "but why are we doing this again?"

Niall and Harry look at him then. Harry says slowly, "Liam texted, said he was going on a date with Danielle." He taps at his phone, shows Zayn one from hours earlier:

_Going out with daniiiiii tonihgt because shes my girlfrienddddd :D_

Niall’s looking at the text, too. “It’s like his phone’s just given up on autocorrecting him.”

"Wait, hold on,” Zayn looks through the DVDs to hide his smile. “Are - are you guys trying to keep me company? ...You know I wasn't gonna like, sit in my room and cry all night, right? I'm not actually a thirteen-year-old girl."

"You were gonna wallow," Niall says as he goes to set up Zayn’s DVD player. 

"I was not. Surprised Lou isn't here."

"He's sick," Harry says, and pulls a face as he stabs a half-pint of chocolate chip cookie dough with a spoon. "And was too, a little."

He raises a knowing eyebrow. Zayn rolls his eyes and grabs the ice cream. "Yeah, fine, a _little_."

“I bet you made a sad playlist on your iTunes and everything,” Niall says, nose wrinkling at the mass of tangled cords and wires. 

“I bet you sang ‘My Boo’ in the shower and cried,” Harry says, knocking his head affectionately against Zayn’s.

Zayn laughs, and the sickly feeling he’s had in his stomach ever since Liam left a few hours ago is already starting to dissipate. He and Harry make their way to the sofa with ice cream in hand, and Niall lets out a triumphant cheer when he finally gets the DVD player going. He pops in the first movie of the night: “ _Transformers_ ,” he says, “Megan Fox and explosions - don’t really see how you can go wrong there.” 

Harry and Zayn agree that you _can’t_ , and Harry curls into Zayn, head tucked under his chin even though he’s got two inches on him. Zayn gets the ice cream open and they start digging in when Niall finally joins them on Zayn’s other side. 

*

They give up on _Transformers_ halfway through, mostly because Niall’s hungry and Harry wants to bake. Zayn gets out all the things they’ll need, and Harry sets about mixing the batter, has to smack Niall (who is sitting on the counter next to him) on the hand every time he swipes at the globs that drip from the side of the bowl.

“Eggs,” Harry says, “ _raw eggs_. You could get sick.”

Niall snorts, pats his stomach. “Been eating cake batter for nineteen years and I haven’t died yet. I think I’m good.”

Zayn prepares the oven, and Niall and Harry get the batter into the baking pans, and once they’re all gathered around on the kitchen floor watching it bake at a very slow pace, Harry cracks open a bottle of vodka from Niall’s bag and pours them shots in red Solo cups in turn. 

“To getting fucked up with good friends,” he says, and the three of them clink their cups together. Zayn tosses the shot back, and it burns the entire way down. He coughs, thumps his chest, and his eyes water.

“Niall, what the hell did you buy?”

“Technically, I stopped by my brother’s and picked up whatever he had, so blame him,” Niall says, laughing, even as he rubs his own chest. “May have just ingested gasoline, who knows.”

Zayn shifts and slinks completely onto the floor, his limbs splayed out on the tile. He moans, “I’m going to die. Of heartbreak and shitty vodka.” 

Harry’s peering down at him, the vodka bottle dangling from the hand resting on his knee. “We’re sorry,” he says, “that we couldn’t, you know. Woo him.”

Zayn spreads his arms out wide and taps at Niall’s ankle. “S’ok. I kind of wasn’t - I mean, it’s not like I thought it’d actually work or anything. It was just...”

He stops, leans up to pour them all another shot. He hisses, holds his cup to his chest and flops back down. “It’s nice, not keeping it to myself all the time.”

He lifts his cup at the two of them. 

“It’s good, having friends who know all the details. Maybe you don’t think you helped, but.” He closes his eyes, nods against the floor. “You helped.”

“You don’t _have_ to give up,” Harry says, and Niall sort of hums at that. 

“Don’t think he wanted to break up a relationship?”

Zayn shakes his head, and Harry lets out a breath, crawls closer to Zayn. “No, but like... this is just a hurdle. They’re not _married_ or anything. And you can like more than one person at a time.”

“I don’t think he likes me,” Zayn says, and he’s proud of the way he keeps his voice from shaking even if, when he pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyes start to sting. Fingers curl around his hand, pull it away, and when he opens his eyes, Niall’s frowning down at him.

“He loves you,” Niall tells him. “Don’t - maybe we don’t exactly know _how_ , but he loves you.”

“ _I_ think you should just tell him,” Harry says, pulling his knees up to his chest. “That’s how it works in romantic comedies. You’re outside and it’s raining or - or you’re inside, and one of you is crying. I don’t know, but there’s always waterworks involved. And you’re like, _I’ve loved you since the first time we read comics together_ , and Liam’s all, _you never said_ and - ”

“Romantic comedies are not a realistic depiction of relationships,” Zayn interrupts quietly, cracking an eye open. “I keep telling you that.”

Harry shakes his head. “Everything will work out. It has to. Maybe...” A corner of his mouth quirks up with a soft smile. “Maybe the timing’s just off for you two.”

“ _Timing_?”

“No, yeah, that's it,” Niall crosses his legs at the ankles, takes a swig from the bottle. “And, you know, the thing about timing is that sometimes it _is_ off,” he starts, and hands the bottle to Zayn.

The vodka burns less this time around, and Niall says, “But it won’t always be.”

*

Harry and Niall leave a little after midnight, and as they pack up to go, Zayn tries not to think about the fact that Liam isn’t home by now. He’s had a good night, and he doesn’t want to ruin it just yet by moping. They’ve got on their coats and scarves and gloves and when Zayn opens the door for them, they pause to say goodbye.

Niall says, "Hope we made you forget a little, at least."

Zayn leans against the doorway with his hands in his pockets. "Well, you brought me shitty booze and baked goods, so. You know."

He bounces up on his toes, smiles.

They hug him in turn, start to head downstairs. They only take a step or two when Zayn calls out, "Love you guys!"

Harry immediately doubles back to Zayn’s door with a giant grin. He throws his arms around Zayn, forces his hands out of his pockets so Zayn can hug him back again. Zayn digs his chin into Harry’s shoulder, smiles when he says, “Love you, too."

Niall is by the stairs still, standing with one foot on the landing and one on the step below. He smiles, rolls his eyes in a fond sort of way, and pushes himself off the banister to join them. 

He tucks his head under Zayn's when he gets there. "You'll be alright, you know."

“You _will_ ,” Harry agrees, voice muffled from where his face is buried in Zayn’s hair, and it’s funny, but. 

But Zayn really believes them.

*

Zayn is in line at a café right on the edge of campus that Tuesday when he runs into, of all people, _Louis_. It’s comic, almost, the way Louis sees him and turns for a moment like he’s going to go right back out, but then he lets his head droop and trudges forward to get in line behind Zayn, waving an awkward hand.

“Hello.”

“Uh. Hey, Lou. What’re you doing here?” 

“I was,” Louis looks around the café with shifty eyes. “I was just in the area.”

“Just in the area?” Zayn repeats, and Louis frowns. 

“Yes.”

“Louis, you live over two hours away. The only time you’re _just in the area_ is to visit, and last I checked, Harry was under the impression you were dying of cholera. We had to stop him from hitching a ride to your school yesterday with this really seedy looking guy in a pickup truck.”

“ _Harold_ ,” Louis says fondly, and Zayn gives his shoulder a little shove.

“No, seriously, like.” Zayn squints at him. “Are you hiding something? Are you secretly dating someone here?”

“ _That’s_ what you jump to?” Louis laughs, and then reminds him: “Zayn, I have a girlfriend at school. And I’m pretty sure Harry’s hooked up with a few people in the music program here. It’s not a big deal.” He’s frowning again. “And we wouldn’t even lie to each other about something like that.”

“But you’d lie about whatever this is?”

They step forward in line, Louis sighs and hooks an arm around Zayn’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about _whatever this is_ , okay?” 

Zayn pinches Louis’ side in response. “Look, I know you’ve known Harry since you two were little kids and you probably know him better than he knows himself blah blah blah, but I swear, Louis, if you make him cry I will stab you with my sketching pencils. Repeatedly. And then draw you and submit it as a project. And get an A, just to spite your dead memory.”

Louis throws his head back and laughs, pulls Zayn in to smile into his hair. “I like the protective look on you,” he says. “Good thing to have in a friend.”

“Louis.”

Louis reaches down to tweak a nipple. “It’s nothing bad, I promise. It’s nothing serious, and it doesn’t have to do with _this_ school or dating or anything, but it does have to do with... well, me, and I don’t want anyone to know yet. Not until I have everything sorted.”

He gives Zayn a little shake. “ _Okay_?”

“...Yeah, fine.” Zayn smiles at the attendant at the cash register. “ _Fine_ , I believe you.”

“Good.” Louis leans over his shoulder and orders for them - two black coffees, no sugar, because Louis likes to pretend he’s hardcore and Zayn thinks it helps him draw better - and they’re waiting for their drinks off to the side when Louis says, “So, can I change the subject and ask how you are?” 

“I... I don’t know. I’ve been avoiding them when she’s around,” he admits, and presses against the glass of the little baked goods section. He angles his head to smile at Louis. “I was there, when he asked her.”

“Did he get down on one knee?” Louis drums his knuckles against the glass. “I feel like that’s just something Liam would do.”

Zayn shakes his head, peers down at the fruit pastries. “It was on New Year’s. Everyone was at mine, you know, hugging and kissing and all that, and he just - he just asked her. Wanted to ring in the new year properly, I guess.”

Louis doesn’t say anything in response, even after he grabs their coffees and heads towards a free table. Zayn cracks open his sketchbook while his coffee cools to non-tongue-scalding levels, draws Louis as he sits uncharacteristically still, head bowed, hands clasped around his cup. Zayn’s almost got the wisps of hair swept along his forehead down perfectly when Louis looks up. “Do you ever... do you ever wonder what would happen if you just went for it and told him?”

“The three of you...” Zayn laughs. “The three of you always ask but like. I want - ”

He falters. Louis takes a sip of his coffee and waits. 

“He’s with Danielle, right? And he’s happy with her and I just - I want him to be happy,” Zayn says, rubbing at the space between his eyes. “I mean, if you love someone, you just want them to be happy, don’t you? Even if they’re happy with someone else?”

Louis reaches out, thumbs along the tattoo on Zayn’s forearm. He says, “Dunno how you’ve held out so long, to be honest. I’d’ve jumped him already if I were holding that in.”

“I don’t want to force a choice on him.”

“Maybe you’re just afraid he won’t pick you if you gave him one.” 

He pinches at the skin of Zayn’s wrist between his fingernails and when Zayn yelps and snatches his hand to his chest and glares, Louis grins. "Anyway, you’re some kind of saint, Malik. They should erect statues in your honor for the amount of times you _haven’t_ been erect around him.”

“Classy,” Zayn says, scribbling a wart on Louis’ nose in his sketchbook, and Louis snorts. “But some of us have willpower.” 

Louis considers this, and takes another sip of coffee. “Whatever, I’d be that asshole standing up at a wedding unable to forever hold my peace. Get drunk as fuck and make a really bitter speech during the toasts about the ex who’s getting married.”

“Yes, well, I am clearly the better person here,” Zayn says lightly, and Louis tells him, “You are,” and he sounds affectionate enough that Zayn finds himself giving him a small smile.

“Well,” he says, and now he’s drawing a caricature of Niall in the bottom corner of the paper. “Maybe." 

*

Liam throws Zayn a surprise birthday party that Friday, a week after he turns twenty. It's testament to how much he and the other boys love Zayn that not one of them manages to let that particular secret slip. Harry maybe gives it away just slightly when he takes Zayn out that night on the pretense of shopping for art supplies - he can’t stop smiling the whole day, and makes a show of letting Zayn into _his own apartment_ first - but it works out in the end. Zayn turns the living room light on and is hit with confetti poppers and balloons and a chorus of _happy birthday, Zayn!_

Once Zayn recovers from the minor heart attack, he laughs, and gets enveloped in what appears to be a massive twenty-person hug made up of all the decent friends Zayn’s managed to make here so far. Louis and Niall stretch over the people together to dump something over his head and he blinks and can make out tiny, plastic birthday hats and balloons and actual glitter. 

“You better hope this comes out,” he shouts over everyone’s heads, but Louis and Niall just laugh and high five each other, clearly pleased

Harry is slouching over Zayn’s back to bump Louis and Niall’s fists in turn and Zayn lets out an _oof_ when his arms are suddenly filled with Liam. “Happy birthday!” he says. “Or. Happy late birthday. Were you surprised?”

“Completely,” Zayn squeezes him back, and Liam lifts him up a little, holding tight as he spins Zayn in a half circle. He sets Zayn down, grinning so wide his eyes nearly disappear.

“Good! Your presents are on coffee table, and Niall organized the food and drink, and Harry’s friend Nick brought the music - ”

“Which explains why no one knows what the fuck is playing - ” Louis laughs.

“And we’re gonna have a good time, okay?”

Zayn’s smiling so wide he thinks his cheeks might hurt at the end of the night. “I am ready for a night of debauchery, I think.”

Liam hugs him again, murmurs, “Right, I’ll let everyone else say hi to you now,” into his ear, and the second he steps back, Louis slots in and nearly trips Zayn with the amount of force of his hug. 

He says, “If you make a _Twilight_ joke about sparkling because of the glitter, this friendship is over. They are stale and I expect more from a friend of mine. Also, happy birthday. Also also, my present is the best.”

“I was gonna go the Liberace route, actually,” Zayn says, and Louis holds Zayn in front of him by his shoulders, pretends to get emotional and mouths, _proud of you_.

Harry, whose pretty much just latched onto Zayn’s back like a baby koala at this point, says, “No, my present is the best. Louis is a liar.”

Zayn tilts his head at Niall, waiting. Unconcerned, Niall stuffs a handful of Cheetos in his mouth. Zayn’s not sure when he switched the bag of confetti for food. “Got you a new pasta strainer.”

He’s smiling a bit as he says it, so Zayn thinks maybe he’s lying. Whatever, he’ll find out eventually, anyway. Zayn turns then, backs Harry up into Louis. 

“Lou, take your koala thing,” he says, and Louis gives a quiet laugh, and drags Harry away towards the alcohol. 

Zayn and Niall make their way into the living room, and there’s a sizeable amount of presents on the coffee table, which is surprising in and of itself. Who knew Zayn’s friends liked him enough to spend money on him? 

“We’ve all been here for an hour or so now,” Niall tells him, wiping Cheeto-orange fingers on his jeans, “wanted to start a beer pong tournament later. You’d be up for it?”

Zayn glances towards his room, where the can trophy still sits from that first party, and grins. “Yeah, definitely.”

“Good man,” Niall says. He pauses for a moment, then leans in, adds, “Danielle’s here? I didn’t know if you - I mean, if you wanted to know.”

“Yeah, I figured...” Zayn trails off, watches as Liam makes his way over again with her in tow now. 

“Zayn!” She skips forward the last two steps with a package in her hand, gives him a warm hug and kisses his cheek. “I feel like I haven’t seen you around in awhile, you’re always so busy.”

“Yeah, you know,” Zayn waves a hand. “Life of a college student. It’s nice to see you.”

“You too, of course,” she presses the package into his hands then, and he can make out the happy birthday text wrapping paper. “I wanted to put it in with the rest, but I was afraid they’d break. Open it,” she encourages, and he does and of course, of _course_ she had to be thoughtful and lovely and get him something he not only needs but loves. It’s a set of brushes, more expensive than he can afford - and he knows that for a fact, because he passed them up just a few hours earlier when he was with Harry. 

“Is that okay?” Danielle asks, and she’s wringing her hands together a bit, like she wants his approval. She glances at Liam, whose got a hand at the small of her back, and he nods and smiles. 

“Liam said you’d love them, that the set you have now is starting to wear out.”

_Of course Liam said that._

“Yeah, they’re perfect,” Zayn says, and gives her a one-armed hug, the brushes clutched against his chest. “Thanks.” He meets Liam’s eye, says, “Thank you,” to him too, and Liam laughs.

“Oh, that’s not my present. She was just nervous so I gave her advice.”

“You know him so well,” Niall comments idly, crumpling up his empty bag of Cheetos. He holds out a hand - this one _not_ covered in cheese dust - and says, “here, I’ll put those in your room for you, why don’t you get a drink?”

Zayn hands them off, and he doesn’t quite know how he’s managed to find himself in between Liam and Danielle as they head into the kitchen, but he’d like to stop it immediately and -

No. You know what? No. He’s not going to ruin this - he’s not going to ruin Liam’s planning, and his own good time, just because his best friend is dating someone. It’s happened before, and he got over it back then, too, and it’s just. 

It’s tiring, being upset about something he can’t change at the moment. 

There’s a niggling thought at the back of his mind that tells him that maybe it’s happened before, but Liam’s never looked this happy, either, but he banishes that away with a smile and a, “So, who’s gonna do a shot with me?”

Liam hops up on the counter and lines up three shot glasses, pours them all out a shot of tequila in a neat row, and Zayn can’t help the surprise that flits over his face.

Liam laughs, and says, “Dani’s teaching me how to bartend.”

“Natural talent,” she says, “which is funny, given that he practicaly never drinks the stuff.”

“I will tonight,” he corrects her, and lifts one of the shot glasses up. “To Zayn.”

(Zayn hears Nick saying loudly, “I’m not playing Drake, dammit!” and Louis yelling back, “Zayn’s got him on vinyl, it’s a _thing_ , you idiot!” and then there’s the sound of several songs skipping in quick succession before “Shot For Me” starts playing. Zayn wonders if the whole universe is trying to play a joke on him. It’s the only thing that makes sense at this point.

“To Zayn,” Danielle smiles.

“To me,” Zayn says, lifting his glass up and clinking it against theirs.

He tosses it back, and the burn feels almost soothing.

*

Harry’s holding his ping pong ball with squinted eyes, focused on the final Solo cup in front of Zayn and Niall. He looks up for just a moment and -

“Miss,” Niall says with a smile and Zayn snorts next to him. “Miss, miss, miss, miss.”

Louis flaps his hands in Niall’s direction and starts jogging in place. He massages Harry’s shoulder. “C’mon, I bet Niall you two would win. You can do this! You’re a contender!” 

“He’ll have less of a chance to miss if you aren’t jostling him,” Liam says. “You’re not even playing, Louis, he’s _my_ partner.” 

“No, please,” Zayn gestures to Louis, “by all means, continue to distract him. I can’t wait to win again.”

“Can’t distract me,” Harry says with only one eye open now, tongue poking out the side of his mouth. “I am nondistractable.”

“Not a word,” Niall says.

“Indistractable.”

“Still not a word,” Zayn laughs.

Harry drops his arm then, sighs and says with the slightest slur, “I have had a lot of beer in a very short span of time, I think I can make up a word every now and then.”

“Don’t listen to them, Harry,” Louis says, and he’s chopping Harry’s shoulderblades now. “Listen to me. Listen to my voice.”

“Are you trying to help us win or talk him out of a coma?” Liam asks, and Niall snorts so loud Zayn thinks he’s pulled something. Louis reaches out and pinches Liam’s nipple, hard, before Liam can block him.

“I don’t know when you started getting all quippy, but I’m not here for it.”

“Like you haven’t rubbed off on him,” Nick says from his perch on the sofa, and the girl from ice skating - Eleanor, Zayn remembers - leans over the back of it and laughs lightly. “Probably has, though.”

“Have not,” Louis argues, and Eleanor blinks innocently up at Liam.

“Has he shotgunned with you yet?”

Liam’s cheeks go red, just a touch, and Louis says, “Irrelevant! Harry, I’ll blow you under the table if you win.”

“Dirty tactics!” Niall shouts, pointing dramatically. “That’s not fair, you’re offering blatant sexual favors!”

“Nah, too easy, anyway, want a challenge,” Harry says, and the small group of people around them laugh. 

“Oh, Christ, Harry, _I’ll_ blow you under the table if you just take the damn shot already,” Liam says, and everyone is too busy figuring out if that’s a sentence that just came out of Liam’s mouth to notice Harry’s ping pong ball arcing into the air and slicing straight into the last Solo cup on the table.

“We win,” Harry smiles, and jerks his chin at Liam. “Are you gonna break your promise?”

“Don’t intend to,” Liam retorts, and turns a very nice shade of red then, like he’s only just realized what he’s been saying. He closes his eyes. “I have been hanging out with all of you way too much. This is a sign I should stop.”

“It’s a sign you should blow Harry under the table,” Louis says, aiming a foot at the area. “Go on, don’t make promises you can’t keep, Payne.”

“Cake!” Liam says in response, and Niall perks up next to Zayn. “I have... cake. I bought Zayn a cake. We should sing happy birthday. And not blow Harry under the table.”

“I’m not really happy about this outcome even though it involves dessert,” Harry says, and Zayn downs the rest of his beer, wipes his mouth and claps his hands. 

“No, let’s do this, I want cake.”

A few of Zayn’s friends from an animation course help him move the beer pong table out of the way. Danielle’s mops the spilled water and beer on the floor, and by the time they get the actual table for eating back in place with Zayn sitting at the head of it, Liam’s coming out of the kitchen very, very slowly, carrying a red, white and blue monstrosity in his hands. 

“Captain America,” he says, beaming as he sets it down, and sure enough, there are little stars all along the side, and his shield in frosting on top. There’s a “2” and a “0” as candles, and someone hits the lights as Liam lights them from behind Zayn. 

He’s got an arm slung light around Zayn’s shoulders, crouched behind his chair, and he starts, “Happy birthday to you...” and halfway through, Zayn laughs and starts singing along because, screw it, this is one of the best birthday’s he’s had, even with all the other shit he has to deal with.

He’s belting out the final lines with a soulful little twinge of it, doesn’t really notice the only people still singing with him at the end are Louis, Harry, Niall and Liam, and on the final happy birthday, they’re voices come together and it -

It sounds really great, actually. 

There’s a silence after, and someone coughs, and Harry says, “Well, that was weird.”

“Nice harmony at the end there,” Nick says, vaguely impressed, and then adds with a touch of sarcasm, “Maybe you should start a boy band.”

Liam laughs, fingers digging a little into Zayn’s shoulder as Louis responds (“Amazing, Nicholas. Even when you’re being genuine, you still manage to sound like a raging dick.”), says, “Hey, blow out your candles.”

Zayn makes a show of taking a breath and Liam whispers, “Don’t forget to make a wish.”

Zayn closes his eyes, concentrates, thinks it’d be nice if he could just end up okay, in the end. 

The candles flicker out, and everyone cheers, and over it all, Niall asks, “What’d you wish for?”

Zayn opens his eyes, takes in the room before him for a moment.

“For Liam to blow Harry under the table,” he says, and Harry’s resulting laugh is so sudden and sharp that he claps his hand over his mouth, after.

“It's never coming true now that you said it out loud,” Louis sighs, and Liam stands straight again.

“Good, the floor doesn’t look very comfortable, anyway.”

*

Zayn doesn’t open his presents until after everyone’s gone. Even Danielle leaves at some point, promising to call Liam tomorrow, naturally, but he gets her a cab and send her off, and then it’s just Liam left, and he’s not going anywhere anytime soon.

Zayn saves the boys’ presents for last, opening Louis’ first. It’s a small box, and there’s a note on top ( _for when you need inspiration_ , it says) and inside are books of poetry, as far as Zayn can tell. Neruda, and Hughes and cummings - there’s even a Shel Silverstein book at the bottom.

Liam says, “God, it’s like he makes you think he’s going to get you a book of fart jokes or something, but then he’s secretly considerate and it really just makes you want to hug him. Or punch him.”

Harry’s present is wrapped carefully, painstakingly, and Zayn smiles at the little bow in the corner, an added touch that just seems like something Harry would do. When he gets it open, it’s a few vinyl records - Harry’s been obsessed with getting some for Zayn ever since he found out Zayn had bought a used record player in high school. There’s one of _channel ORANGE_ , that’s only just come out, and one for _Thriller_ , too. (There’s also a Post-It on top that says _TELL LOUIS MY PRESENT IS BETTER_.)

“Niall said he put his in your room,” Liam says, and Zayn sets aside the vinyls, laughs when they get to his room and find a pasta strainer with a ribbon tied around it sitting on his bed. To be fair, it’s also on top of a wrapped package, and when Zayn gets it open, there’s animation software - upgrades he’d needed, had been moaning about paying for for weeks now, because how can he do the _digital_ part of his animation major without using the best software available? He has a card, too, that slips out from between the thin software boxes. It's an actual greeting card, and he bites down a smile when he sees Niall’s handwriting scrawled across the blank side of the it:

_Hope the software comes in handy, hope your birthday is great, hope a lot of things for you, actually. Love ya._

There’s a cartoon plate of spaghetti underneath that, and a stick figure next to it with what looks suspiciously to be like blond hair and speech bubble above it’s head that says, ‘Use the strainer!!!!!’

Liam takes the card out of Zayn’s hand. “Can I show you mine, now?” and Zayn nods. 

Liam tells him to wait there, it’s in his closet, and Zayn calls out after him, “Is that why your clothes have been all over your room for the last like, month?” and Liam laughs and says, “Yes!” back.

There’s a lot of shuffling, and then the sound of wheels rolling along the floor, and Liam’s backing into Zayn’s room with something as tall as him, a sheet covering most of it. He sets it up in the corner, steps to the side. 

“Ready?” he asks, and Zayn stands, walks towards it slowly. 

“Yeah, what is it?”

Liam’s almost _giddy_ as he whips the sheet off, and it’s an entire painting station, it looks like. Sturdy, with an easel and compartments for paint, and brushes and a dozen other things, and Zayn just stands there, fingers pinching his mouth together because he can’t - he can’t -

“Do you like it?” Liam asks, and Zayn chokes on a laugh.

“ _Do I like it?_ ”

“I know it’s not - I mean, there’s nothing digital about it,” Liam says, giving the station a once over before looking at Zayn. “But you always loved painting.”

“ _Liam_ , I - how much did this even _cost_?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Liam says, and, “you only turn twenty once. I think it deserves something big.”

(Zayn recalls Liam ordering the cheapest items off menus in restaurants for months now, and the amount of food delivered to their apartment has all but dwindled to nothing, and Liam's taken extra shifts at the campus bookstore when he can, and Zayn doesn’t deserve the way these people love him - fiercely, amazingly, and so, so thoughtfully. He’s at a complete loss for words.)

Liam says, “I take silence as a good thing, then?” and Zayn finally scoops him up in a hug, picks _him_ off the ground this time. 

“Yes, it’s a good thing,” he says once he puts Liam down. “God, I just - _thank you_.”

“You deserve it,” is all Liam tells him, quiet and honest. “You deserve everything, all these - you - I just really wanted you to have a good birthday.”

“I did.” Zayn’s thinks he’s heart going to overexert itself one of these days. “I had an amazing birthday.”

Liam huffs out a laugh. “Love you, Zayn,” he says, and Zayn turns his face in, buries it in Liam’s neck.

“I love you, too,” he says, and Liam just hugs him tighter. “Love you forever.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You have freckles,” Zayn says, and Niall’s gaze flicks down for a moment - first, cross-eyed down his nose like he’s trying to check, and then at Zayn, before he laughs.
> 
> "I realize that," he says, his eyes crinkling in the corners. "I've kind of had this face for awhile."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god i just wanted to get this part posted and done with already (can you tell) ((also i'm pretty sure every part of this fic can just be summed up by saying 'lots of recreational drug use and drinking and feelings.'))
> 
> (((literally just all the weed and booze and feelings.)))

“I think we’ve reached a new level of friendship, Zayn.”

“Have we?”

Niall adjusts himself in the desk chair they brought into the room and hums a little, something short and sweet. "God, yes. Don't stop massaging.”

Zayn just laughs, and reaches down to adjust the towel around Niall’s neck. 

“I can’t actually dye your hair and massage-slash-shampoo your head at the same time.”

“I don’t _care_ ,” Niall says, brows knitting together. “I don’t even wanna dye my hair anymore. Fuck it, let my roots show.”

Zayn scratches at the base of his neck. Niall groans, murmuring, “Magic fucking _fingers_.”

Zayn stifles another laugh when there’s a knock on the bathroom door.

"Um...," Harry's voice comes through, with a hint of a smile to it, "I need my toothbrush, but I can give you two a moment if Zayn's fucking fingers are _magic_."

There's a pause.

" _Or_ I could come in and film you - ?"

"I'm dyeing his hair!" Zayn interrupts, quick, amidst Niall laughing, loud and obnoxious. 

Harry takes that as his cue and opens the door. He winks as he reaches over Niall’s head in the sink to grab the toothbrush. 

“Y’going somewhere?” Niall asks, squeezes his eyes shut in anticipation when shampoo suds trickle dangerously close towards his eye. 

Zayn wipes it off with the towel before it gets there, and Harry says, “Headed to Louis’ for the weekend.”

Zayn glances at him as he scrubs. “You don’t look as happy as you usually do about that.”

Harry sits on the edge of the tub with his toothbrush clutched in his hand. He flips his hair with the other, says, “No, I am, but - he can’t come up for my birthday party next week? He said he has a research paper due. And... I dunno,” Harry shrugs, “I wanted him to be there.”

“Aw, H,” Niall blindly reaches out a hand towards Harry and ends up hitting him in the nose. “Oop, sorry - we can all be your surrogate-Louis for the night, if you want.”

“Yeah, sure,” Zayn agrees, “It’ll be easy. I’ll just skip all my classes for the week and pretend I have no idea what personal space is.”

“As if _you_ know what personal space is, either,” Harry scoffs. “You sat on Niall’s lap when there weren’t enough seats at that bar we went too last Saturday,” he reminds Zayn, and thinks a bit and adds, “And Liam once held both of Louis’ hand for like, an entire half hour just so Louis couldn’t pinch him, before it just morphed into regular hand-holding. I know because _we timed him_ to see how long he’d last.”

Niall nods, eyes still shut. “That’s true. Those are things that have happened.”

Zayn turns the sink back on to wash the shampoo out of Niall’s hair. “I need friends who touch each other less.”

“No, you don’t,” Harry says brightly.

“No, I don’t,” Zayn sighs, his mouth curving up at the ends. “It’s kind of nice.”

“Damn right it is,” Niall says, tilting his neck so his hair’s under the spray of the water.

Harry stands. “‘Kay, well, I’m off now." He bops Niall on the nose with an index finger, leans his head down to kiss Zayn’s cheek. “See you Sunday.”

“Love you!” Niall calls as Harry heads out, and they only have to wait a moment for his response, clearly shouted from the hallway, “Love you too, Niall Horan!”

Niall wriggles in his seat, pleased, and Zayn turns the water off and dries his hands on his jeans. 

“I know we make jokes about him and Lou all the time,” he says, “but I do miss when one of us isn’t here.”

“Yeah, me, too,” Niall admits, opening his eyes and scrubbing his towel through his hair. He adds jokingly: “Honestly, we should just tie strings to our wrists or something and yank on them whenever we need each other.”

Zayn pauses for a moment, then says with a careful smile, “Maybe I’ll get a tattoo instead.”

"Maybe," Niall laughs, and tosses him a comb. “Right, let’s get this going.”

*

Niall’s inspecting his hair in the mirror, turning his head this way and that, and Zayn stands behind him, nods to his reflection. “Did I do okay?”

“Yeah, you did okay,” Niall fluffs it up a bit and smiles. “It looks great.”

“I thought I was going to burn your scalp off, so I was probably more careful than I needed to be,” Zayn tells him, and Niall laughs, turns to hoist himself up onto the sink. “How long have you been dyeing it, anyway?”

Niall clasps his hands together in his lap and shrugs. “Dunno, five, six years, maybe? Tried it once out of curiosity and it just kind of stuck, I guess.”

“I’ve always wanted to do something weird to my hair,” Zayn says, and shifts closer so he can look over Niall’s shoulder and into the mirror. “Dye it purple or - well, no, not to _that_ major but. Something.”

He gives Niall a Very Serious Look. “Am I a summer or an autumn? You think Deep Burgundy Number 5 would work?”

“That’s not a real color - also, I think you can shave your head and still have, y’know,” he gestures at Zayn’s face, “that, so it doesn’t really matter what you do. You’ll be pretty either way.”

“You think I’m _pretty_ ,” Zayn preens, and Niall rolls his eyes.

“You have seen your own reflection, Zayn, I’m pretty sure this isn’t _news_.”

He reaches out then, eyes on Zayn’s hair (styled up today, in some kind of 50s-style greaser thing), and combs his fingers through the front of it. “But, if you wanna dye it, I have an idea.”

“Are you seriously touching my hair? I’ve maimed people for less, Niall.”

“I’m sure,” Niall says, and twists a chunk of it around his finger and tugs.

“ _For less_ ,” Zayn repeats, but doesn’t actually make a move to stop him. “What d’you have in mind?”

“There’s still some peroxide left, if you’ll let me try something.” He raises an eyebrow. “If you trust me, anyway.”

“I trust you,” Zayn says, and moves the desk chair back in front of the sink, “that should be obvious by now.”

He sits down, and Niall rubs his hands together. “You said nothing major, right? So - is Billy Idol-blond out of the question, then?”

“Niall.”

“ _Kidding_.”

*

“Your eyelashes are fucking ridiculous,” Niall says, and separates a section Zayn’s hair with a comb, his tongue peeking out the side of his mouth.

“Shh, _coooncentrate_ ,” Zayn whispers, and Niall exhales on a laugh.

“Be quiet then, I’m trying not to fuck up your hair.”

“Way to instill confidence,” Zayn says, and then falls silent as he watches Niall section off the right amount. He’s close, the fabric of his loose tank brushing against Zayn’s arm every time he leans in. He’s got flecks of green in his eyes, Zayn’s never noticed, and -

“Freckles.”

“What?”

“You have freckles,” Zayn says.

Niall’s gaze flicks down for a moment - first, cross-eyed down his nose like he’s trying to check, and then at Zayn - before he laughs. "I realize that," he says, his eyes crinkling in the corners. "I've kind of had this face for awhile. Also, you’ve known me since the beginning of the school year?"

"No, yeah, I know you have them, but," Zayn pokes at the underside of his jaw. “They’re _all over_.”

“Overly fascinated by small things,” Niall says, like he’s ticking it off on a mental list, and goes back to sectioning off Zayn’s hair. “Got it.”

Zayn aims another poke at one on his neck, and Niall shifts away, like it tickles. "If you get bored while I do this, I'll just grab a Sharpie and you can play connect the dots."

"Hm," Zayn pokes the same spot again, contemplative, "maybe later."

*

“You look like soft serve ice cream,” Louis says as soon as Zayn opens the door to his apartment. “Vanilla and chocolate swirl.”

“Wow, Zayn, I haven’t seen you in a week, I missed you. Really love the new look,” Zayn says flatly, turning on heel to head into the living room.

“I _do_ love it,” Louis trails after him, closing the door. “It’s just also making me hungry.”

“Me, too, actually,” Niall says from where he’s lounging on the sofa, and Zayn pulls a face at him.

“You’re always hungry, my hair has nothing to do with it.”

“True,” he picks his legs up so Louis can sit down, sets them in his lap once he does. “Harry’ll be here in twenty, Liam just texted me that their movie finished.”

“You didn’t tell him I was coming, right?” Louis asks, and Zayn rolls his eyes and flops down into the armchair, starts up the game they were playing before Louis knocked on his door.

“Yeah, we had Liam take him out on a pre-birthday party platonic-date-thing because he definitely already knows you’re here.”

Louis just sticks out his tongue. “When are we leaving?”

“Too long of a walk to Nick’s,” Zayn says. “It's like a half hour trip, but we figured we’d just take your car. Maybe have a couple drinks here and leave around nine? It doesn’t start until ten, but Harry should probably get there early since it’s, y’know, his party.”

“I can’t believe you let that pretentious beanstalk throw him a birthday party," Louis says, betrayed, and Niall chuckles and digs his feet into the sofa, tugging him closer. 

“This place is too small for the amount of people and you live too far away. _And_ we can’t throw a party in a dorm room - ”

“Well, not with that attitude, you can’t,” Louis mutters.

“Think about it this way,” Zayn says. “Liam’s driving, obviously, so you can get as fucked up as you like and maybe ‘accidentally’ spill a drink on - on Nick’s carpet or something.”

"...I’m listening."

“And... insult his taste in music?”

“Harry likes his taste in music,” Louis says, slightly wounded, and Niall teases, “Nick’s showing him a whole new world - ”

(Zayn sings _a dazzling place he never knew_ under his breath)

“- don’t have a fit,” Niall finishes with closed eyes and a smile, and Louis goes to pinch his nipple in retaliation but Niall chops his hand out of the way before he can.

“Black belt in taekwon - ” he starts to say, but then Louis aims a hand at his crotch instead and he flinches. “Oow, fucking _dick_.”

“Well,” Zayn says, and Niall laughs in a pained sort of way.

“I hate you,” he tells Louis. “So much.”

“Except,” Louis reaches out to pat his cheek, “you don’t.”

*

“But why do I have to hide under the _table_ ,” Louis asks, and Zayn just shoves his head down more.

“I don’t know, but it’ll ruin the surprise aspect of it if you’re just standing in the middle of the room like a jackass.”

“But - the kitchen table?” Louis’ only halfway underneath, and Liam says, very loudly, very deliberately from the other side of the door, “ _I am putting my key into the lock now_.”

(Harry says, “Liam, are you okay?”)

Niall nudges Louis in the butt with his knee and Louis glares but crawls under the table, finally. He pulls his legs up to his chest and crosses his feet at the ankles. 

“This is stupid,” he says, arms wrapping around his knees. “This is - this is _so stupid_ , you don’t even have a tablecloth on this, Zayn - _this is literally hiding nothing from anyone_.”

Niall runs into Zayn's room, comes out with a blanket, throws it over the table and says hurriedly, “Shut up, you’re a ghost,” just as Liam opens the door.

Zayn and Niall stand in front of the table, hands behind their backs, and grin widely. 

“Hi, Harry!” they say, in unison, and Liam already looks like he’s trying not to laugh.

“Uh,” Harry takes a step or two in, points at the kitchen table in confusion. “Zayn, why’s your blanket on the table?”

“We were building a fort,” Zayn says, and Louis hisses _yeah, nice improv_.

“Is something under there?” Harry asks, and there’s a thump as Louis shifts. 

“Ow - I swear to God if -” there’s more shuffling, and another thump - this one louder - and then a sigh and a resigned, “happy birthday, Harry.”

A slow smile spreads across Harry’s face. “...Louis?”

“No,” Louis says patiently, “I’m a _ghost_.”

Zayn waggles his fingers, Niall murmurs, “ _Oo-oo-ooh_.”

“What - ? Take that off,” Harry’s laughing, too, now, and Zayn pulls the blanket away to find a grumpy Louis underneath. 

He tries to send a withering look Zayn and Niall’s way, but gets distracted by Harry crouching down in front of him. “Louis,” he chirps, and Louis’ frown melts into a reticent smile.

“Hi,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You don’t have anything due this weekend,” Harry says, his smile growing wider, and Louis shakes his head. 

“No. It was supposed to be a surprise. Were you surprised? Did you miss me, at least? Bet you cried - _oof_!"

Harry launches himself at Louis to hug him, and Louis thumps his head on the table again, but doesn't complain this time.

Niall hops onto the table."Think he cried a few times when," he makes a jerking motion, and Zayn snorts.

"Shut up," Harry says happily, and laughs as Louis tries to burrow his way into Harry's jacket. "Of course I missed you," he says, and Louis stops squirming around long enough to plant a loud, smacking kiss to his cheek.

Zayn pretends to gag. "This is nauseating. This is so cute it's actually loped around to nauseating."

"Harry," Louis says loudly, cutting over Zayn's voice, "did Liam ever blow you under the table?"

" _No_ ," Harry says, mournful.

Liam bangs on the table with his fist. "Hey, no, we eat on this, stop that."

"You don't eat _under_ it," Harry says sensibly, and Liam frowns.

"Well... _no_ , but -"

"Right, I'm taking off my pants," Louis says decisively, and Niall aims a backwards kick at Louis' shin.

"We don't have time for that, Louis. Also you probably have a mild concussion and I don't really want to go to a party _and_ the hospital tonight."

Louis calls out in a mildly dangerous tone, “Hey, Niall, how’s your crotch?” and Niall laughs.

“I don’t even care, man, let’s just fucking drink.”

*

"I'm sorry,” Louis tosses back a shot with Niall, points at Liam. “Repeat that?"

"I might studying abroad next year," Liam says, with a slight lilt to the end, and Louis shakes his head.

"No,” he says, “after that."

“Probably in England?"

Louis rolls an impatient hand, "No, after that."

Liam sighs and says with a monotone, "A friend I have there said his dad's willing to let me bartend at his pub as a way to make money on the side."

Louis laughs. "There it is!"

"It's not _that_ funny, Louis," Liam tells him, nursing his drink as he props his feet up on the coffee table.

"But, a bartender, Liam." Louis’ right in the middle of them all, standing in front of the television. "Liam, a _bartender_. A bartender," he spreads his hands out with a grin, pauses for effect, " _who rarely drinks_."

"I think I'd just like listening to people's problems," Liam muses, and Louis clutches his stomach and laughs like it’s the best joke he’s heard all week.

"The Mother Theresa of bartenders! Beautiful. I could not make this up if I tried." He heads to the sofa, flops into Liam’s lap. “I love you, Liam. I love your head,” he says, and rubs Liam’s head. “Keeping the cut close now? You’re like a bald, little good luck charm. Is that why you shaved your head, Liam? So we’d all rub it?”

“Right,” Zayn reaches up from his seat on the floor and grabs the bottle out of Louis’ hand. “And I’m cutting you off until we get to Nick’s.”

“Pro’ly a good idea,” Harry slurs from where he’s slumped against Zayn, and Niall pets his hair. 

“You too, Harry.”

“Should we go?" Harry smiles. “I wanna go.”

“It’s barely nine, let’s just give you a bit to, um, not stumble around.” Liam gets up to head towards the kitchen. “I’ll get you water.”

“Love you,” Harry says, dazed and sleepy, and Zayn extricates himself from Harry’s octopus hug, pawns him off onto Niall instead and follows Liam into the kitchen.

Liam is running the tap when Zayn says, “England, huh?”

“Yeah,” Liam ducks a glass under the water. “Um, I wanted to tell you but I. I wasn’t sure, if I was going to apply.”

“But you are.”

“Yeah, it’ll be a good experience, I think,” Liam shuts off the tap, and holds the glass of water to his chest like a shield. “I’m - I mean, I haven’t even gotten accepted yet or anything, but I’m nervous?”

“Understandable.”

“It’s just,” Liam taps his fingers against the glass. “I’ll be on my own, kind of. And you won’t - you won’t be there.”

His eyebrows do that weird Liam-thing and Zayn touches the back of his hand and Liam says, “You’re always there.”

“Liam,” Zayn steps closer, and his head’s swimming a bit from the few shots he’s had already. “Doesn’t matter if you’re in England or - or Germany or fucking, I don’t know, _Pluto_ \- you can always talk to me. You know that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Liam’s smiling now. “The wonders of the Internet.”

“Right. Skype, and Facebook. Gchat. Besides, you haven’t even gotten in yet. I - not that I don’t think you will. You’ll get in. You can do anything. But just - ” he remembers what Niall told him, once, says, “there’s no use in worrying about things that haven’t happened yet.”

Liam stares for a moment, and then breaks out with a wide grin. “You’re right. I’ll find out in a few months, anyway. Freak out properly then.”

“And I will let you have a panic attack on my shoulder,” Zayn promises. Liam knocks their foreheads together and laughs. 

“Thank you.”

“ _Water_ ,” Harry croaks suddenly, loud over their conversation. “Sahara desert... in... mouth... throat... closing up...”

“Shoot - sorry, Harry,” Liam says, rushes over to give him his drink. Harry gulps down half the glass in one go and smiles, already putting his head back down in Niall’s lap and closing his eyes.

“Okay, m’gonna nap for fifteen minutes, and then we can go.”

“Nineteen year old Harry is pretty hardcore,” Niall says.

“ _Woo_ ,” Harry cheers weakly.

*

“There’s _hors d'oeuvres_ in the kitchen.” Louis shakes Zayn. “Is he not aware that he’s throwing a party for a nineteen year old college student and not Martha fucking Stewart?”

“Lou.” Zayn shakes him back, grinning, “Stop judging everything Nick does and _have fun_.”

“I can’t help it,” Louis moans, dropping his head onto Zayn’s shoulder. “He makes me want to make him cry, a little.”

“It’s the jealousy talking." Zayn brushes sympathetically at the hair falling onto Louis’ forehead. “It’s okay.”

“I’m not jealous,” Louis says, and Zayn nods.

“Sure, sure. Go find Harry, I think he was doing a body shot off that Aimee girl Nick works with, last I saw.”

Louis perks up at that. “Body shots? I like body shots.”

“I know you do." Zayn shoves him a little in the direction of the living room. “Go! Fly free!”

Louis spreads his arms out like wings and Zayn is still laughing, even when he finds Liam sitting on the sofa with Danielle curled up against him. He’s too drunk-happy to do anything but sit on the arm and grin at both of them.

“Hello,” he says, and nods to Danielle. “When’d you get here?”

“Few minutes ago." She tilts her head onto Liam’s shoulder, smiles. “How have you been?”

“Alright. Have you had anything to drink yet?”

“Nah, going sober tonight - I have work in the morning. Thank you, though.”

He nods, stares at Liam fingers drumming along her shoulders and it’s fine, he can do this. It can’t hurt him if he doesn’t _let_ it, right? A silence falls over them. Zayn stares at his lap.

Okay, so he doesn’t have to get used to it _right this second_.

“Right. I’m gonna go,” he says. Liam touches his knee before he has the chance to stand and tells him, “Hey, Niall was looking for you.”

Zayn swivels across the arm, hands in his lap. “Where’d you see him last?”

Liam laughs. 

“Guess.”

*

Zayn finds him in the kitchen, obviously.

“Niall!”

He peeks out from over the fridge door, grins. "Hey. I was looking for you.”

“Liam said.”

“Hey, um,” Niall closes the door, squints around the kitchen. “You think there's any pasta here?"

"Pretty sure that was not on Nick’s list of culinary creations tonight. You can ask?"

"Pft," Niall grabs his hand, drags him towards the cabinets. "Nah, I only like when you make it, anyway."

He starts digging through anything that can open with a concentrated look, bottle of beer in one hand. Zayn’s chuckling when Niall whoops in triumph and hops up, flicks a box of tortellini off the topmost shelf.

“Yes!”

“ _Niall_ ,” Zayn glances around the kitchen, trying to stifle his laughter as he takes the box from Niall. “No, put this back.”

“But _pasta_ ,” Niall argues loudly, poking the box. He’s frowning, blinking wide puppy eyes at Zayn. “Pasta, Zayn. _Tortellini_ , Zayn.”

“ _Not my place_ , Niall,” Zayn says, and Niall lets out a sigh that makes his shoulders sag. Zayn clicks his tongue, tucks the box back onto its shelf.

“Later,” he says. 

Niall mumbles, “Fine. I _guess_ I’ll just starve and we can go watch Louis get even drunker and make fun of Nick’s furniture instead.”

Zayn squeezes his shoulder, tugs him in with an arm around the neck. He noses along Niall’s temple and chuckles. “Yeah, sounds good.”

*

“Tell me, Nicholas, how many non-prescription glasses do you own, exactly? I’m betting ten, maybe even twenty.”

Nick peers down amusedly at Louis over thick, black frames. “What’s that, half-pint? Can’t hear you from all the way down there.”

“Feel like I should be standin’ in between you with a white handkerchief above my head,” Harry says, slurring and swinging his legs as he sits on the edge of Nick’s pool table. (Seriously. A _pool table_. Zayn thinks Nick might be a little bit rich.)

“I’m up for a street race,” Niall says, next to Harry. “Back alley scrap, let’s fucking go.”

“I don’t think we should be encouraging this,” Zayn whispers back, and Louis puffs out his chest like an angry little bird. “I think this might end in fisticuffs.”

“I’ll go a round,” Louis narrows his eyes. “Liam’s teaching me how to box.”

“Where _is_ Liam?” Zayn asks, but Louis waves a hand. 

“Zayn! Please, we’re having a battle of wits here.”

“Not so much a battle as it is a _tête-à-tête_ ,” Nick says, and Louis rolls his eyes.

“What is it with you and the French thing? _I’m_ the one named after a king. Several kings, even.”

“And yet,” Nick says, “you’re still so _common_.”

“Can’t tell if you’re gonna fuck or fight,” one of Nick’s friends says blithely. Niall pumps his fists against his knees with a grin, chants, “Fight, fight, fight!”

Louis makes a face like he’s going to be sick. “There aren’t strong enough beer goggles in the _world_. And anyway, tonight isn’t about me eventually verbally decimating you, Nicholas,” Louis says, and aims a smile Harry’s way instead. “It’s about my best friend.”

“M’really drunk,” Harry responds.

“I know, birthday boy." Louis drapes himself over Harry, who snorts against his neck. 

“Stop fighting wi’Nick,” he murmurs. "Can I’ve another piece of my cake?”

“You can have as many pieces as you want, young Harold,” Nick says, and Louis shifts so he’s in between them.

“Go get him another piece then,” Louis says, over his shoulder, and pushes a bit of sweaty hair off Harry’s forehead. 

“You want water, Harry?” he asks, a fond sort of concern falling over him. “I’m sorry, we don’t really mean it, it’s mostly just for fun.”

“S’ok,” Harry says. “And yeah.”

Louis covers Harry's ears, yells across the room: “Harry needs a glass of water, Nick - and it better be filtered!”

Zayn nudges Niall, tells him, “Hey, I have to go to the bathroom, lemme know if Louis starts setting Nick’s beanies on fire or something.”

Niall salutes. “Will do, boss.”

*

Zayn knocks once on the bathroom door, turns the knob and doesn’t register the _Wait!_ before he’s actually got it open and - well. He’s found Liam.

Zayn freezes in place, and Danielle slides off the bathroom sink and turns away from the door. “Oh, God.”

She’s laughing, trying to button up her shirt, and Liam looks mortified even as he grins and moves in front of Danielle to hide her.

“Um - Zayn,” he’s laughing too, with one hand clamped over his eyes, the other over the dropped zipper of his jeans. “Sorry, can you - can you close the door, please?”

Zayn blinks, shakes his head, and suddenly everything speeds up. “No, right, I’m - yeah,” he babbles, “sorry, I - sorry.”

He leans against the door for a moment, and then pushes off and only makes it a few steps before bumping into Niall, who’s laughing and saying, “Zayn, Zayn, Harry’s completely wasted and trying to stick his hand down Louis’ pants on the fucking pool table, I think we should call it a night - "

His smiles falls when he gets a look at Zayn, and he grips Zayn’s elbow. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Zayn laughs, and he doesn’t know why. “Nothing, I’m - it's stupid.”

Niall frowns. “Zayn - "

The bathroom door creaks open, and Zayn watches Liam and Danielle sheepishly make their way out. Danielle’s got a flush to her cheeks and Liam has her by the hand and gives another embarrassed laugh. He ducks to murmur into Zayn’s ear as he passes says, “Sorry, I - I _really_ thought we locked it - you can use it now, sorry.”

Zayn shakes his head again. “It’s fine.”

None of them speak for a moment, and then Niall clears his throat. “Harry’s really drunk, so we should probably get going?” 

“Umm, right,” Liam’s still got a flush, and Zayn’s not sure if it’s because he got caught or because of what he was _doing_. “I’ll go warm up the car.”

Niall pats Liam on the shoulder, and he and Danielle merge back into the party as Zayn thumps his head against the wall, shoulders sagging, eyes raised towards the ceiling. Niall doesn’t speak, just looks at him. Zayn gives him a wobbly smile.

“You wanna get out of here? By ourselves,” he adds, and Niall only takes a second before the corners of his mouth quirk up, soft and understanding, and he nods.

“Yeah,” he says, and runs a hand down Zayn’s arm. “C’mon, let’s get our coats.”

(They find Harry half-dozing on Louis’ shoulder as Louis tries to get his coat on for him, hug goodbye, say Liam’s waiting for them downstairs.

“Best friends,” Harry says in response. “Best, best, _best_.”) 

*

Niall starts talking the moment their feet hit the pavement, doesn’t stop even when Zayn purposefully takes the opposite way where Liam’s car is parked so he doesn’t have to pass it.

Zayn texts Liam, _Wakling 2 Nialls dorm need frsh air dnt wory_. He’s drunker than he first thought as they make their way to the dorms, Niall babbling the entire time, like if he talks long enough, Zayn'll forget the last half hour even happened. The fresh air feels good, and burns ice-cold in his lungs.

“One time, my brother," Niall is saying as they reach the doors to his build, "he got so drunk he blacked out and woke up naked in an elevator -"

Zayn stops him with a hand on his shoulder. Niall stares at him, silent and expectant, and Zayn wants to say thank you, but he just smiles instead.

"Wanna smoke?”

*

Niall and Harry have the corner room on their floor, with the windows facing the rear of building - prime real estate for not getting caught and kicked out of the dorms, Zayn figures. He and Niall spend the first half hour there stuffing towels in the cracks of the doors, covering up the vents. They crack open one window so the smoke can stream out, and Niall gives Zayn the first hit off his bowl with a grin.

“Wish we would’ve gone to yours,” he says after some time, head lolling against the wall as they sit on his bed. They’re on their tenth round of that zombie game Zayn can never remember the name of.

“Why?”

“Coulda made me some food,” Niall tells him, and Zayn laughs.

“Jesus, do you ever eat anything besides my food anymore?”

He smiles lazily. “M’addicted."

“I did make some,” Zayn says. “Thought we were all going back to mine and Liam’s after, but.” He shrugs, slinks further down the wall.

"What'd you make me?" Niall murmurs, and gets a zombie right between it’s eyes.

"Who says I made it for you?"

Niall snorts, tries to push at him; his hand sort of flops uselessly against Zayn's chest and Zayn catches it before it falls. He chuckles and says, "Yeah, fine, it was for you."

"It's always for me," Niall says with a grin. "What was it this time?"

"Angel hair pasta. Cos, you know," he gestures at Niall.

Niall's laughing again, has to pause the game to catch his breath, and Zayn says, “What’s so funny?”

"Nothing," Niall says. "You’re just really high, I think. Comparing me to _carbs_."

"I’m not really arguing the first part," Zayn says sluggishly, laughing on a breath, and Niall's doing that thing where he scrunches his nose up, shifts a little so the light coming from outside covers him. "Also you have a halo. So the pasta choice was apt."

A short, sweet humming sound gets caught in Niall's throat and they go back to the game. Zayn nudges him, eyes on the screen. He waits. “Um. Thanks. For tonight.”

“Not a big deal.”

Zayn looks down at his controller. “I know, but - ”

Niall pauses the game again and turns to him. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” Zayn says, and Niall shrugs. 

“So don’t. Just,” he laughs, and manages to sound serious even with bloodshot and half-lidded eyes:

“Let yourself enjoy a night for once.”

*

Harry isn’t coming back to the dorms for the night. Zayn knows this because he gets a text at 3:57 that reads: _TRHEW UP N FEEL BAETTER NOW AT URS W LOU MAKKING PIZZA!!!!!!!!;D_ Zayn texts Louis _Please don’t let him burn the kitchen down_ and Louis responds with a _;)_ which isn’t at all comforting.

Zayn tosses his phone to the bottom of Niall’s bed. He’s been lying in the dark for the past half hour now, on the cusp of passing out. He’s still got the edges of the high curling through him, and his body feels loose-limbed and sated, like it’s sinking into the mattress. He can hear every breath Niall makes, knows he isn’t sleeping, either. 

“Niall?”

“Mm?”

“When you, when you and Harry first talked about that wooing thing,” Niall huffs out a laugh, “what else did you have in mind?”

Niall’s quiet for a long moment, and then says, “There was one thing I was curious about. Wasn’t sure if you’d ever, y’know.”

“What?”

“You - you said you hadn’t kissed Liam before, so I just thought...”

“That I was a blushing virgin or something,” Zayn guesses, and Niall laugh comes out low and rumbling in his chest.

“Or something, yeah.”

“M’not,” Zayn says, because yeah, Liam’s his - Liam is this constant, aching _want_ , but it doesn’t mean Zayn’s never had a crush in the years they’ve known each other. It’s just never really mattered much.

 _They’ve_ never really mattered much, because they aren’t Liam.

“Oh,” Niall says, and there’s silence again but it’s - it’s not - it's not quiet, not in the least. Zayn can hear the hum of the heater, the rustle of blankets, someone playing trip hop on the floor below them, the shuffling of Niall’s legs against his. “Can I try something, then?”

Zayn’s tongue feels heavy in his mouth. “Why?” 

“It’s for science,” Niall mumbles. “Sexy science.”

Zayn laughs, can’t help it, says _idiot_. It comes out like a term of endearment instead of an insult. The laughter dies down, and he takes a breath. “Why me?”

He can see Niall’s braces glinting in the moonlight. Niall says, “I don’t know. I like touching things when I’m high and I really kind of wanna see if the stubble on your jaw is as prickly as I think it is?"

There’s a lull, and he adds, soft, “Not everything has to have some deep meaning behind it, Zayn. I swear, I - I can see the cogs and gears working in your head constantly and I just want you to - just - fucking _relax_. It doesn’t have to be so damn hard _all the time_ \- ”

Zayn moves before he realizes what he’s doing, swallows down the sound of surprise Niall makes in his throat. He gets a hand on the nape of Niall's neck, digs his fingers in, and Niall exhales hard through his nose, tilts his head and licks into Zayn’s mouth. His knuckles slide down Zayn’s chest, and the leftover high makes it feel like little zaps of electricity pinging through the cloth.

Niall nudges at Zayn’s shoulder until he’s on his back, combs a hand through his hair and Zayn’s tongue doesn’t feel so heavy anymore but _Niall_ does and Zayn keeps kissing back, hard until Niall makes a sharp, pained sound and shifts away a fraction of an inch.

“Ow - fucking metal in my _fucking_ mouth,” he says, but he’s laughing, and accidentally licks Zayn’s teeth when Zayn smiles in response.

Zayn ducks to Niall’s neck then, nips at his collarbone, and Niall gets a handful of Zayn’s shirt at his waist, twists it up and says, “Yeah, that’s - better.”

Zayn drags his mouth up the length of Niall’s neck and Niall’s huffing out a shaky breath. “Zayn, if I was a woman in a Victorian novel, I would’ve fainted already - _are you kidding me_?”

“Got what you want for your little science experiment then?” Zayn murmurs against his skin, and Niall says, dazed, “Sexy science. Call it by it’s proper name.”

Like a punch to the gut, Zayn remembers _wooing_ , and Liam, and liamanddanielle, and then Niall cups jaw and whispers, “Stop thinking so much, would you?” into his mouth and Zayn just.

Does.

*

Zayn wakes up with his face mashed into Niall’s neck to the sound of the door opening. He blinks, winces at the harsh sunlight streaming in and Niall yawns and sits up slow, rubs at his eyes. Louis’ walking into the room like he’s confused. He stops in front of Niall’s bed, rubs his bottom lip for a moment, contemplative, and then gestures between Niall and Zayn.

"Did you two fuck yesterday?" he asks, and Zayn looks up towards the ceiling, says, "Jesus Christ, Lou," and Niall pipes up with a very clear _no_.

"I'm just saying," Louis holds his hands up in defense, glances around the room again. "There's a vibe in here." He narrows his eyes. "Sexy tension vibe, maybe."

"Oh, my God," Niall says, and promptly climbs out of his bed. He’s still wearing his clothes from Harry’s party yesterday, wrinkled and messy, and his hair’s shooting off in ten different directions and his eyes are bloodshot but he picks up his bookbag from the desk chair anyway. He stuffs his shoes on and plops a snapback over his bedhead. "I, uh. Need to go do something not here."

His face is beet red when he turns around, and he knocks his snapback up to scratch at his hair before pointing at Zayn. "Text me?"

"Yeah."

"Niall, you're redder than a tomato," Louis says, like he's a bit inspired by it, really, and Niall flips him off over his shoulder.

"You're wearing way too much pastel, asshole, you look like an Easter egg basket," he says as the door shuts behind him.

Louis hops onto Harry's bed once he's gone, nods at Zayn. "So, you _did_ fuck."

"No - Louis, there was - there was no sex of any kind."

Louis mulls this over and then shrugs. "Well, something happened."

"We didn't have _sex_ , alright?"

"But you did other things? Zayn, is that what I'm supposed to infer from this? Shit, really," Louis says, and he steps across the gap from the edge of Harry's bed to Niall's until he can plop down next to Zayn. "How was it?"

"I don't remember," Zayn says, stubborn, refusing to give an inch.

"Now is not the time for selective amnesia, Zayn.”

"It's just - it's not a thing," Zayn tells him. "It's like - it's the opposite of a thing. We were blasted and he was being really nice and then we were trying to sleep and - "

"Teenage hormones took over," Louis nods reasonably enough. "I remember what that was like."

"Can we just... can we not talk about it? I don't - I'd just rather not talk about it."

Louis raises an eyebrow then. "Well, fine, but at least verbally confirm you did fun, consensual things together."

Zayn's face feels hot. "I am... verbally confirming that."

Zayn’s phone buzzes then. It’s a text from Niall: _No awkwardness I promise , sry. Lou is just too loud to deal w in the morn :). I'll be back soon as he's gone._ Zayn texts back, _So you leave him with me? Nice._

“Your first college hook up,” Louis says with disbelief, “and it’s with one of your best friends.” He shakes his head. “You are truly living on the edge of adventure, Zayn.”

Niall asks, _We’re ok ???_

Zayn replies with a, _We’re okay :)_. It feels like the truth.

*

Louis calls Zayn that night when he’s back at home, in his own bed, and he spends an entire fifteen seconds humming the chorus to "The Bad Touch" before Zayn threatens to hang up on him. He doesn’t want to delve into the conversation he knows Louis wants to have (he left almost immediately after Niall did this morning, so he and Louis didn’t get a chance to talk). Instead he asks, “Louis, how did you even get into the dorm?"

" _I had Harold's key copied_."

"I am positive that's illegal," Zayn tells him, switches his phone from one ear to the other. “Also, you need an ID card to gain access into the dorms once you're in the actual building, Louis, so that still doesn't explain it."

" _Oh, that_ ," Louis shifts and the rustling comes across the line. " _I may or may not have made friends with the woman at the front desk who has everyone sign in_."

"Louis."

" _All I have to do is bring her trashy romance novels from Barnes and Noble and some flowers and chocolate occasionally, don't make it a big deal_."

"Louis, I think that's bribery. I think you're bribing someone."

" _Bribery, willfull power of suggestion via gifts. Semantics, really_."

There’s a pause, and Zayn can’t avoid _any_ of what happened in the morning because Louis says, careful, " _Look, I know I was joking earlier, and you said you didn't want to talk about it, but... you're hung up on Liam, Zayn. Are you sure yesterday was a good idea?_ "

Zayn doesn't say anything. Louis sighs. " _I'm not - I'm not trying to tell you who to hook up with, you know? But if you're thinking about doing it again, maybe just - maybe figure out if it's what you really wanna do. Because Niall doesn't deserve to be anyone's second choice."_

"I'm not," Zayn says then.

" _Not what_?"

"Going to do it again. It was just something fun. He’s easy.” He can practically _hear_ Louis’ unimpressed look over the phone and he adds, “not - you know I don’t mean like that, Lou. It’s - I - I don’t have to think so much around him. I don’t have to think at _all_. Yesterday was just. Easy."

” _Easy_ ,” Louis repeats, slow. Then:

" _Right, I get that Niall is like, the most carefree human being in the history of existence and his ability to not give a fuck is truly magnificent, and he is probably perfectly content to just engage in a relationship with whatever fridge is closest to him, but._ "

He hesitates, and says, gentle and protective, “ _Be careful,_ ” and Zayn's memory flickers back to Niall saying the same thing to Louis a few months ago.

“I know, Lou,” Zayn says. “I know.”

There's a beat, and Louis sighs, “ _Was he a good kisser, at least?_ ”

Zayn thinks of zombies, and packed bowls, and metal wires on teeth that make Niall hiss when another mouth presses against his hard enough.

”A lady never kisses and tells,” Zayn says dryly.

Louis laughs, soft enough that it mostly comes out like an exhale. 

” _That’s a yes, then_.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall says, “You seem okay, though. About tonight.”
> 
> “Mm, no, but,” Zayn turns a case over in his hands.
> 
> “You make it better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> past me thought this was going to be six parts and around 15k, but past me clearly didn't know anything about _anything_. (i had to cut the part in half again, so hopefully the next one will be out in a few days)

"Are you avoiding Danielle?"

Zayn shoves a spoonful of Cheerios in his mouth to avoid answering right away. He tries to look past Liam to see the television, but he won't budge from where he's standing in front of it.

"Wha'," Zayn clutches his bowl to him. He swallows. "No. I - no. What?"

"It's just," Liam clasps his hands together tight. "Every time we've tried doing something with you lately, you've made up some excuse as to why you can't go."

"They're not excuses," Zayn says, defensive. "I'm - college? Busy. Student things." He sounds like he's short-circuiting, so he takes a breath: "I have a lot of stuff to do for my classes, you know that. And I have a job."

"Right, but," Liam scrubs a hand through his hair. "Last weekend you said you couldn't come out because you had a comic panel you had to finish?"

"I did."

"Yeah, but - um. You spent the weekend with Harry binge-watching movies."

"He likes to have someone to cuddle," Zayn says, setting his bowl down. Liam frowns.

"Zayn, I'm serious."

"So am I, he was all over me."

" _Zayn._ "

"I'm not avoiding her."

"You're not un-avoiding her, either."

Zayn scratches at his jaw instead of responding. Liam sighs and goes to sit next to him.

"She thinks you hate her." He chews at his lip. "...Do you?"

" _No_ ," Zayn says, emphatic. "That's not - I like her. I swear. Why does it even matter?" he asks, before he can stop himself. "Not - I _like her_ , but why does it matter whether I do or not?"

"You're kidding, right," Liam says flatly. "Maybe because you're my best friend? Out of everyone, you're my _best_ best friend. If anyone's opinion mattered most to me, it'd be yours."

"What," Zayn laughs, disbelieving, "like, you'd break up with her if we didn't get along?"

There's a too-long moment of silence. Zayn's laugh trails off. "Liam, you... you wouldn't, though?"

"I mean, it'd - maybe not right away, but it'd bother me enough that..." Liam shifts uncomfortably. "I need - I need whoever I date to get along with you or it - I - you're the one constant I've had in my life." He wraps his fingers around Zayn's forearm. "It just. It wouldn't work otherwise."

He squeezes Zayn's wrist, pleading silently and Zayn lets out a breath.

"Friday," he says, and Liam's giving him a relieved, crooked smile. "We'll go out Friday.”

*

**To: Niall**  
 **From: Zayn  
**

_Need a favor_

**To: Zayn  
** **From: Niall  
** _No smile , how serious is this!!_

 **To: Niall  
** **From: Zayn  
** _You busy Friday??_

 **To: Zayn  
** **From: Niall  
** _Nope!!!!!harry's gonna be out , got a paper due Sunday night anyway. Why?_

 **To: Niall  
** **From: Zayn  
** _Feel like going to dinner with Liam and Danielle?_

 **To: Zayn  
** **From: Niall  
** _Oooh.. need a buffer???_

 **To: Niall  
** **From: Zayn  
** _Need a buffer :(_

 **To: Zayn  
** **From: Niall  
** _I'm there :)_

*

They end up at a Greek restaurant in the city, and Zayn is not being weird about it, he's really not. He did the first bit right, at least - met up with them, with Niall, kissed Danielle’s cheek, hugged Liam. 

He feels like he’s running on autopilot, though: he responds at the right moments, laughs at the right jokes, because he doesn’t _want_ Danielle to think he hates her. He doesn’t. He just, up until this point, has had no idea how he's supposed to act, what he’s supposed to do, when he’s sitting across from them, watching them _actually be a couple_.

They’re waiting for their food now. Zayn's too hot, too nervous, too-everything and he is trying so hard to be okay about this. He’s also spent the last five minutes tugging at the cloth napkin in his lap, twisting it around again and again, hard enough that he can feel his nails digging into his palm through it, so maybe that's not exactly going according to plan, either.

A hand covers the top of his then, and he looks down and sees Niall's wrist, his bracelet. He glances over and - Niall's taking a sip of his water, saying something to Liam and laughing, not even looking Zayn's way.

His gently pulls the napkin out of Zayn's grip though, runs an absentminded thumb over his wrist bone. He keeps it there, tells Danielle about the time Louis thought it'd be a good idea to try and break into the zoo and release all the animals. By the time their food comes and Niall’s nearing the end of the story (they ended up watching _The Lion King_ instead, and Louis’ arrest record stayed mercifully clean), Zayn’s almost entirely relaxed, can feel the last of the tension leave his shoulders. Right on cue, Niall taps a beat onto the back of his hand with light fingertips and pulls away. 

Niall's got his chin on his other hand, watching the waiter set down their food. Zayn looks at him until Niall finally glances back: the corner of his mouth picks up, just a touch. Then he grabs his fork and immerses himself into the conversation again like nothing's happened.

*

Zayn excuses himself for a smoke halfway through, and he’s turning up the collar of his coat and heading out when Danielle falls into step behind him. She smiles, careful, tucks a curl behind her ear.

“Can I bum one?” she asks, and he wordlessly holds out his pack for her. 

Zayn lights hers first with his Zippo, watches his burn on an inhales. She shivers mightily next to him. "Um. You want my coat?”

She shakes her head, tightening the scarf around her neck. He shrugs it off anyway, and wraps it around her shoulders awkwardly, mindful of the cigarette in her hand. She gives him another smile. “Liam talked to you, didn’t he?”

“Liam talks to me about a lot of things,” Zayn says evasively, tapping the end of his cigarette. 

Danielle presses her hand to his shoulder. “About you and us.”

He squints down at his boots. "Polyamory's not really my thing.”

“Zayn.”

(And he doesn’t know when people started saying his name so exasperatedly, but he’d like it to stop.)

“I mean,” she holds the cigarette up to her lips, and it’s with just enough awkwardness that Zayn knows she doesn’t smoke. Probably just came out here to talk to him. “You get it, yeah? Why I - why it’d seem like you don’t... like me?”

“I don’t _not_ like you,” he says, and she laughs. 

“See? It’s just - that. You’re nice, you know? You’re polite. But it’s so... I feel like I’m trying to talk to you through a brick wall sometimes, Zayn.”

“I’m not the easiest person to get along with,” he says, because he isn’t. “I know I come off... aloof, or whatever,” he starts, but she lets out an impatient breath and cuts him off:

“Niall likes you enough, doesn’t he? And the - and the other boys. Liam talks about them all the time. Talks about _you_ all the time. You’d think you’d all known each other for years. And I know it’s different, I know I’m just the girlfriend, but I don’t want it to be awkward. I don’t want _us_ to be awkward.”

Zayn’s trying to get to the filter as quick as he can.

“You know, that night of the party, when we all met? Liam spent - he spent an _hour_ in my room telling me about his turtles back home, and how he was scared one of them was going to eat the other while he was gone.”

Zayn tries and fails to hold back a laugh.

“I _know_ , right,” she says, and sounds a fraction more relaxed, “and I - I was sitting there, listening to him and the thing is - the thing is, I wasn’t bored. I wasn’t pretending to care. I mean, I wanted him to kiss me, but I thought maybe listening to him talk about his turtles was alright, too.”

She stops again, like she’s waiting for a response. Zayn stubs his cigarette out and clears his throat. “It’s - it’s his face. It’s just looks so earnest about everything. And he does that thing with his eyebrows a lot.”

“He does,” she agrees, and seems more confident, now that Zayn’s actually talking to her. “And it kind of just makes you wanna... make him happy.”

Zayn murmurs, “Yeah.”

“And... and you know what would make him really happy?” she asks, and Zayn sticks his hands in his pockets, shakes his head.

“Us getting along.” She chews on the corner of her lip, hesitant. “I want - I’m trying here, Zayn. I really want to be your friend. Or, I - I hope I can be.”

She smiles again, but it’s got an anxious tilt to it.

“I like you. Liam loves you. And I’m not - I’m not stupid. I know he trusts your opinion more than anyone else, and if - if you tell him that - ” she stumbles over her words, spits them out like she’s afraid she won’t ever say them otherwise:

“If you tell him that he can do better or - or that I’m not good enough, he’ll listen to you. And I don’t... want him to break up with me,” she laughs, but it’s soft. “I don’t.”

Zayn doesn’t quiet know how to respond, and she steps closer, the ash on her unused cigarette falling to the ground. 

“I think... I might be in love with him?”

He wants to tell her that she’ll know when she’s in love with him because it sort of hits you like a freight train. Instead, he toes the ground, smiles. “Right.”

“Please?” she says, and he doesn’t know if she’s asking him to give her a chance, asking him to _try_ , but he does know Liam wants to be with her, and even if it makes him feel like shit sometimes, he’s not going to deliberately get between them.

Zayn’s a lot of things, but he’s not nearly cruel enough for that.

“Yeah,” he says. “I - okay.”

She leans forward, throws her arms around his waist; he can smell her perfume, and the cologne clinging to his coat on her shoulders. 

She kisses his cheek and tugs on his hand to lead them back inside. “ _Thank you_.” 

Zayn is pushing the door to the restaurant open for them when she says with an air of nonchalance, “So, Niall’s really great.” 

“You’ve met before," Zayn reminds her. "Several times.”

“I know, but not in this kind of _situation_ ,” she gives him a look that makes him think she's either about to have a stroke or wink. Zayn glances around the restaurant like he'll find help there. 

“Danielle... what situation?”

She just smiles and pats his shoulder in a _there, there_ manner, and hands him his coat back before they sit down. Liam watches the exchange and gives a hopeful little wave. “Hi. Everything okay?” he asks, and they both nod.

Zayn’s phone buzzes in his pocket a minute later, and when he checks it, it’s a text from Niall, who’s smiling down at his empty plate.

_You were gone so long itold Liam you two were prob running off together hahaha_

Zayn snorts, whispers, “Completely opposite, I think.”

Liam’s talking to Danielle, heads bowed together, and they’re not paying attention to Niall for the moment, but he still texts back instead of answering out loud. 

_What happened????????_

Zayn bites his thumb, texts:

_Think I just agreed to give Liam away at his wedding?_

Niall mouth twists, and he leans over to murmur into Zayn’s ear, “Liam said they’re probably going to Danielle’s after. Wanna come back to mine and switch out all of Harry’s romcom DVDs for horror movies?”

Danielle's watching them as she speaks to Liam, her mouth quirked up into a smile. Zayn still doesn’t even know what that’s about, really, so he grins and says, “Yeah, sounds perfect.”

*

Danielle and Niall spend the whole train ride back to campus talking. Or, well, Danielle is. Niall mostly just looks confused. 

“What are they even talking about?” Zayn says, and Liam knocks into him when the train gets a bit too bumpy. 

“Sorry - don’t know, but, um. You and Danielle...?”

“Me and Danielle,” Zayn nods.

“So, everything’s _really_ okay?”

“We’re fine,” Zayn says, and Liam plucks at the scarf around Zayn’s neck and smiles. 

“Good.”

Danielle leans in to say something to Niall in the seats across from them, and his eyebrows jump up in surprise. He glances over at Liam and Zayn and his mouth twitches into a smile, and he shakes his head. Danielle points to them, and she seems abashed, but Niall just throws his head back and laughs, loud enough that the other passengers look towards him. 

The train comes to its next stop, and Zayn thinks of his conversation with Danielle earlier and says over the sound of screeching wheels on tracks, “All I want is for you to be around people who make you happy.”

Liam’s eyes crinkle in the corners and he taps Zayn under the chin. 

“I am happy,” Liam tells him, and Danielle’s covering her face with her hands and giggling into Niall's shoulder. “I’m always happy, Zayn.”

*

“ _House of 1000 Corpses_ for _You’ve Got Mail_?” Zayn asks, and Niall laughs and opens a DVD case.

“Yeah, perfect, give it over.”

They switch DVDs, and Zayn mimicking Meg Ryan’s scrunched-up smile on the cover when he says, “What were you laughing at earlier, by the way?”

Niall glances over and stares blankly.

“On the train.”

He squints at that. “Not really narrowing it down. You do know that I spend a lot of my waking time laughing, right?”

Zayn smiles, snaps his DVD case shut. “With Danielle.”

“Oh.” A slow, rumbling chuckle builds up, and he clutches the _You’ve Got Mail_ DVD case to his chest. “Oh, God, I don’t even think - um. Danielle, she thought it was a double date.” He picks up another one of Harry’s movies, asks, “ _Say Anything..._ for _Evil Dead II_?”

Zayn fumbles with the DVDs in his hands. “Wait - what?”

“Yeah, she thought that, I don’t know, Liam invited us out together. Like, _together_.” He shakes his hand. “Gimme.”

Zayn hands over the horror movie, slips the romantic comedy into his case. 

“That’s... I guess that makes sense, then. When we were heading back inside the restaurant she said something about our _situation_.”

“Well,” Niall says as he tucks the _Say Anything..._ case back into place, “we _are_ a really tactile group of friends, so it’s an easy mistake to make. I’m surprised no one’s ever assumed we just sit around and have circle jerks all the time, to be honest.”

He frowns then, adds, "You know, I don't know why everyone always uses circle jerk in a negative way. It sounds really fun. Efficient."

"I'm sorry, are we _for_ sitting around and having circle jerks all the time now?"

"Efficient, also probably improves hand-eye coordination," Niall weighs the options out with his hands. "But Liam would want to set a strict schedule, if he'd even agree to it."

"Yeah, well," Zayn crosses his fingers, and Niall laughs again, holds up another case.

“Trade you _My Big Fat Greek Wedding_ for _Dawn of the Dead_.”

“Original or remake?”

“Is that a real question?”

Zayn laughs, hands over the one Niall wants, and he’s still digging through Niall’s pile when Niall says, “You seem okay, though. About tonight.”

“Mm, no, but,” Zayn turns a case over in his hands.

“You make it better.”

Niall grins. “Yeah?”

Zayn shrugs, tosses Niall _30 Days of Night_ and gets _Notting Hill_ in return. “Harry tells me that anything can happen as long as I believe - ”

“Harry does believe in love, he does, he does,” Niall says with a grin -

“- and Louis just spends a lot of time alternating between being protective, and offering to make out with me instead if Liam won’t.”

“I’ve done both of those things,” Niall says, which, yeah, true, but Zayn shakes his head anyway.

“Yeah, but it’s different, I don’t know. You’re different.” He smiles and holds up a DVD. “Hey, _28 Days Later_ for _Bridget Jones’s Diary_?”

Niall peruses Harry’s movies for a moment before saying, “Hm, he doesn’t have that one, actually.”

“What, seriously?” Zayn frowns. “Kind of disappointed.”

“I’ll text him,” Niall says, taking out his phone, “make sure he knows you disapprove of his lack-of-choice in film.”

“Put three frowny faces,” Zayn says, crawling across the carpet to look down at Niall’s phone. “And lots of exclamation.”

Niall shakes his head, shows Zayn the already-typed out _WHY DON’T U HAVE BRIDGET JONES DIARY HAROLD I WANTED TO CRY /AND/ LAUGH TONIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :( :( :( :(((((_ and says, 

“It’s like you don’t even know me, honestly.”

*

Liam tells them in the beginning of March that he wants a tattoo, so the five of them make a day of it. Niall even buys temporary ones that he and Harry stick on each other until they're covered in flaming skulls and monsters (Louis has a tribal armband around his bicep that he says is "obviously the classiest choice") and in typical Liam Payne fashion, he's alright with everything until he's actually going through with it.

He's almost at the end when he seems to remember he's getting a tattoo and he wheezes and says, "I'm going to pass out," over the buzzing of the needle. "I am."

"You're doing _fine_ ," Zayn tells him, and Liam squeezes his hand. "You're almost done, anyway."

"Does it look alright, at least? I can't open my eyes. It's terrible, isn't it?"

The tattoo artist's eyes flick up from Liam's arm at that, giving him a dull look. Zayn is trying not to laugh and Niall says, "Nah, it looks fucking amazing, seriously."

"I don't know," Louis hums, looking up at the artwork hung on the walls, "still think you should've gone with the butterfly thing."

"I'm not getting a butterfly tattoo, Lou," Liam says, and Louis shrugs. 

"If you don't think it's manly enough you can always have it riding an eagle or something. Eagles make anything manly."

"Shut up," Liam tells him, and Louis crouches down behind him, whispers, "I'm going to get you so drunk on your next birthday that you black out and wake up with stars all over your face."

"Oh my God," Liam moans, "please stop talking."

"Alright, you're finished," the tattoo artist says, turning off the needle. He wipes at the ink to inspect it, gestures so Liam can look, too. "What do you think?"

Liam turns his arm this way and that. "Oh, wow, I - it's really nice," he's finally starting to smile. "I love it, thanks!"

The tattoo artist tells him he'll be right back, just needs to get the final forms, and as soon as he leaves the room, Niall nods down at Liam's forearm.

"So, what's with the arrows?"

Liam's cheeks pink up and he says, "No reason."

"Four arrows," Harry says, slow, and starts counting them off, sans Liam. "Oh - will you look at that. Four friends."

" _Best_ ," Niall corrects, and Harry nods. 

"Right, right. Best friends."

"No, that's not it at all," Liam says, but he's ducking behind his forearm to grin, "I just like arrows."

" _Lee-yum_ ," Louis stands up behind the tattoo chair, tilts his head so he's looking at Liam upside down. "Don't lie, Santa won't give you presents this year if you do. Did you permanently mark your body for us or not?"

Liam hesitates, and Louis bites his neck in response.

"Ow! Stop, yes, it's for the four of you, stop - _biting me_ ," Liam nudges Louis out of the way with his head.

"Really?" Zayn asks him. "Like - for us, really?"

Liam looks a little embarrassed. "Yeah." 

"Aw, now I wanna get one," Harry says, and Niall takes Louis' place and hugs Liam from behind the chair.

"That's nice, Liam, I love you," he says, and Liam's patting his arm and assuring him, "I regret it already."

"You always say that," Louis tells him, and goes to pinch a nipple. "But your endeared smile is telling us otherwise."

*

They’re at another party a couple weeks later when Zayn finds Harry hiding out in a room, trying to stave off a panic attack so he can play with his band. He smiles weakly up at Zayn from where he’s sitting on the edge of a bed, a hand on his chest.

Zayn gives him a Solo cup's worth of beer. “Thought it’d help calm you down.”

Harry takes a gulp, and Zayn sits next to him, rubs his hand up and down Harry’s arm like it’ll shake the nerves out of him.

“Every time,” Harry says, tired, and takes a deep breath. “Doesn’t matter who I’m performing in front of.”

“It’s alright,” Zayn twirls the sleeve of Harry’s shirt in his fingers. “I mean, at least you know it’ll never get old, you know?”

“What, trying not to vomit?”

“No, just... performing.”

“Performing,” Harry nods. “Right. I’m playing with a shitty hipster band in a place that reeks of booze and weed. Completely ideal.”

“Aw, don’t put yourself down, Harry,” Zayn holds him a little closer, murmurs, “you’re not a hipster.”

A laugh bursts forth before Harry can stop himself, and Zayn says, more serious, this time, “Really, if you still get nervous, it means you still care, doesn’t it? Better than, I don’t know, being bored. Just going through the motions.”

“Yeah,” Harry takes another sip of beer. “Guess you’re right.”

He’s still anxiously jiggling his legs up and down, so Zayn just pulls him in even more. “I already told Louis to come talk to you when he’s done collecting bets on how long Liam can do a headstand.”

Harry ducks his head to Zayn’s shoulder, smiles. “Thanks.”

Zayn just keeps rubbing his arm, and Harry’s breath eventually starts to even out. He hands Zayn his beer back, and Zayn chews on the rim of the cup, says, “Hey, can I ask you something personal?"

Harry shrugs. "Sure. What is it?"

"Do you - do you ever want more with Lou?”

Harry's lifts his eyebrows. "Oh. Um..."

"Sorry - that’s,” he downs the rest of his beer. “That’s probably not a good question to ask at a party, in retrospect."

"No, it's fine," Harry says, leaning into him. “I don't know. I don't think about it."

"Really?"

Harry shrugs, and then seems to think better of of it. "Well, I do, and I don't - it always just feels so," he makes an abortive gesture with his hands, "And sometimes if I think about it too much... I dunno. I don't want to define it."

Zayn laughs, and Harry nudges him. “What?”

“Nothing, he just said the same thing once, sort of.”

"Yeah? Doesn’t surprise me, we talk about it enough.” Harry’s got a smile pulling at his lips now. "I mean, he's my best friend and I wanna be around him for as long as possible, I don't really care about the specifics. I just - I think that's what matters in the end, you know?"

"The sex?" Zayn jokes, but Harry shakes his head.

"Nah, the love."

"Talking about me, are you?"

Louis' leaning in the doorway, a cup of frothy beer in one hand and the other hand in his pocket; he smiles at them, and Harry says, nonchalant, “Nope.”

Zayn rolls his eyes as Louis joins them, rises with a smile. "Going out for a smoke,” he says, and Louis looks up at that. 

“Before you go, did you know Liam can stand on his head for two whole minutes without falling?”

“No, but that seems like vital information." Zayn taps his temple. “I am tucking it away right up here.”

“Don’t be a smartass,” Louis says sweetly, and Zayn laughs because _really_. “Oh, and Niall’s outside, I think. If you see him, tell him Harry’s on in fifteen.”

Zayn lifts his pack of cigarettes up. “He smoking?” 

Louis shakes his head, holds his thumb and forefinger up to his lips, and Zayn laughs. 

“Right, of course.”

*

Niall’s in the backyard with a dozen other people, mumbling and swearing at a box of matches, joint between his lips, when Zayn meets up with him.

“Harry’s playing in a bit."

Niall knits his brows together, takes the joint out of his mouth. "I know, but I can't get the fucking thing to - fucking freezing my balls off out here for ten minutes because I only have _matches_ and they won’t - shit," he curses, his fingers fumbling over the matchbook. 

Zayn laughs at his quiet look of frustration before he steps forward and covers Niall's hands with his own. "Useless," he teases, and pockets the matchbook.

"I wanted a smoke," Niall says, but Zayn's shifting closer and holding the joint in his mouth to light it with his Zippo instead. The end burns _bright bright bright_ in the darkness, and he inhales and hands it off.

"You need gloves," Zayn tells him in a tight voice before letting out the smoke. He’s rubbing at Niall's free hand now. “Your hands are ice cold.”

“It’s _March_. I didn’t think I need them so I left them at the dorm,” Niall says, holding the joint out for Zayn again. He catches the end of it with his mouth, mumbles _of course_ with a laugh and starts to tug his own out of his jacket pocket.

“What are you doing?” 

“Givin' you mine,” Zayn says around the joint. “Though’ that’d be obvious.”

“You don’t have to do...” Niall trails off, watches Zayn slip his gloves over his hands. When they’re on properly, he drops his hand with his fingers wrapped around Niall’s wrist, offers Niall the joint. Niall doesn’t say anything, just takes another hit, looks down at where Zayn’s swinging his other hand.

Zayn lifts it to eye level. “Where’d you get this bracelet, anyway?”

“My brother - ” Niall blinks, tries again: “My brother bought it awhile ago but didn’t like it, so he gave it to me.”

“Hm.” Zayn’s about to take another hit when he smiles instead and says, “wanna shotgun?”

“Um,” Niall tilts his head, and his hand’s still freezing so Zayn squeezes it gently. Niall laughs and takes a step back. “Actually I - think I’m gonna go inside?”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, you said Harry’s playing soon, wanna be a supportive -” he looks down again, pulls his hand out from Zayn’s grip. “Supportive friend.”

“I’ll come with,” Zayn says, but Niall’s shaking his head, already walking towards the back door.

“Nah, it’s fine,” He knocks his snapback up to scratch at his hair. “Finish it off for me, I owe you one from last time, anyway. I’ll save a spot for you, okay?”

Zayn watches him head inside, thinks maybe he's missing something, but he can't figure out what.

"Okay."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m _boring_ when I’m sick,” Niall says, tugging his pillow into his lap so he can bury his head into it. “Why are you even here? You have class today.”
> 
> “I didn’t go,” Zayn leans up in his chair, rests an arm on the edge of Niall’s bed. “And I came because you don’t feel good, dummy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh... dat ziall?

Zayn doesn’t hear from Niall for a whole week. It takes him until next Friday morning to finally just pick up his phone and call. It’s Harry who answers, and Zayn checks to see if he’s dialed the right number before saying, “Why do you have Niall’s phone?”

“ _He’s sleeping_.”

“Oh, good, I thought he was dead,” Zayn says blithely.

Harry laughs. “ _What_?”

“I haven’t heard from him since last weekend. Liam texted too, but nothing. Thought he was ignoring us.”

“ _Umm_.” There’s shuffling on the other end. “ _No... he’s sick? Got the flu. Been holed up in our room for the past two days, looking very pathetic. In a nice way. Like... cutely pathetic. Hey, I gotta go, I have class in five minutes_.”

“Wait,” Zayn’s already hopping on one leg to get a boot on. He nearly trips into the coffee table as he tries to grab his house keys. “Shit - wait - I’ll come over.”

“ _I won’t be here_ ,” Harry reminds him, “ _and Niall can’t come down to get you, he’s dead asleep_.”

“I’ve got a friend in your hall, I’ll just text her to let me in.”

“ _Cool, I can take over later when I get back. Wait - don’t you have class, too_?”

“Just one,” Zayn locks his door, bounds down the stairs. “I’m doing well enough, I can skip once.”

“ _Alright_ ,” Harry tells him, rushed, “ _I’ll leave the door unlocked_.”

“Be there in twenty.”

“ _’Kay, bye_!”

*

In the time it takes Zayn to pick up a few necessities, walk to Harry and Niall’s dorm hall, text his friend to sign him in, and make his way up the stairs and into their room, Niall’s already awake and sitting up, looking for all the world like a lost puppy with puffy, red eyes and terrible bedhead.

“Harry sent me a text, said you were coming over.” Niall gives him a tired, little smile, and nods at the bags in his hands. “What’s all that?”

“Other stuff. But the one you’ll want now is the soup,” he sets them down carefully on Niall’s desk. "How are you feeling?"

"Alright," Niall says with a scratchy voice, and rubs at an eye with his fist. Zayn takes the styrofoam container of soup out, grabs the plastic spoon that came with it.

He makes sure Niall’s got a steady grip on it before asking, “D’you have a fever?”

Niall eyes him warily over his soup. "No, mom."

"Have you even _checked_ ," Zayn says, and Niall sniffs and mumbles, "M' _fine_."

Zayn sighs, digs down into the other bag and pulls out a digital thermometer. He uncaps it, holds it up to Niall's mouth. "Open."

"You can't be serious."

Zayn shakes the thermometer again and Niall rolls his eyes but does as he's told. 

"You're 'ein' ri'iculous," he says around it, cupping the soup closer to him, and Zayn shrugs.

"Better safe than sorry."

*

Niall goes through two boxes of Kleenex, and he’s made Zayn sit on his desk chair to avoid catching whatever he’s got while they play Harry’s zombie game. He lethargically presses the buttons on his controller, pausing every few moments to sniff or sneeze or rub his chest, and more than once Zayn finds himself smiling fondly at him, enough that Niall glares, bemused. “What?”

“Nothing,” Zayn says. “You’re kind of adorable when you’re sick.”

Niall frowns, and it just makes Zayn want to hug him. “Not,” he says, “I feel miserable.”

“At least you haven’t thrown up?” Zayn offers, and Niall tilts his head.

“Yeah, point.” He coughs, hard enough that it makes him double over into his lap. He groans, shakes his head, sighs, “I have a headache.”

“We’ll stop playing.”

“I’m _boring_ when I’m sick,” Niall says, tugging his pillow into his lap so he can bury his head into it. “Why are you even here? You have class today.”

“I didn’t go,” Zayn leans up in his chair, rests an arm on the edge of Niall’s bed. “And I came because you don’t feel good, dummy.”

“Stop being nice,” Niall’s voice is muffled.

“You’ve been ignoring me since that party Saturday,” Zayn says in response, and Niall stuffs his face into the pillow harder.

“Haven’t, just been busy. Got other stuff to do occasionally than hang out with you four.”

“But not really,” Zayn tells him, and when Niall picks his head up, Zayn just grins.

“Sorry,” Niall sniffs, and wipes at his nose. “I - something came up, and I was being weird, but it’s fine now.”

“Nothing bad?”

Niall gives him an unreadable look. “No, not so much,” he says carefully. His eyes are watery enough from the flu that they leak in the corners when he closes his eyes. “I’m tired.”

Zayn stands, leans over to shut off the television. He takes the controller out of Niall’s hands, swaps it for a tissue. “Get under your blankets,” he orders, and Niall blows his nose and narrows his eyes.

“You’re bossy,” he accuses, but slips under the covers anyway. Zayn sticks out his tongue, and Niall's rubbing his face into his pillow again when Zayn starts to climb up onto his bed.

"What're you doin’," Niall mumbles, and tries vainly to lift his head.

"You’re tired," Zayn says, and shuffles in close. “So we’re going to sleep.”

"But..." Niall ducks his head. "You'll get sick."

"Maybe," Zayn lifts a shoulder. "My immune system doesn't usually let me down."

“Go sleep in Harry’s bed.”

“I don’t know where Harry’s bed has been,” Zayn says, and his mouth tugs down into a frown. “Trying to get rid of me? I’m wounded.”

" _No_ , Zayn," Niall says, except his stuffy nose makes the word come out like _doh_. He pushes weakly at Zayn's chest. "You can't get in here. M'not makin' you sick."

"So I'll sleep on top," Zayn says easily, sliding a hand to Niall's back over his blanket. He's tugging, gently, and Niall lets himself be pulled even as he keeps weakly arguing:

"Zayn, no, I..."

"Niall."

"What?"

"Shut up," Zayn murmurs, and Niall finally just sniffles and tucks his head under Zayn's chin.

"Okay," he sighs. His mouth is open against Zayn's throat, puffing out stuffy breaths. He's running way too hot, hair sticking to his forehead with a light sheen of sweat, but Zayn pulls him closer anyway, tucks his other arm under Niall so he can curl around him protectively.

Niall murmurs _thank you_ and twists his fingers into Zayn's shirt. They stay like that until Zayn's eyelids start to droop and he's asleep between one inhale and the next.

*

Zayn wakes up sometimes in the afternoon to Niall passed out on his chest, breathing through his mouth, his shirt damp with sweat. Zayn palms his forehead, and it’s still warmer than usual. He starts to inch away so he can maybe stretch his legs out, but Niall mumbles, grips Zayn around the middle so Zayn sits up instead, back against the bed frame.

He draws a figure eight on Niall's shoulder, absent-minded, and then stretches out his arm as much as he can without waking Niall up. He reaches for his bag on the chair and digs his sketchbook and a graphite pencil out. He holds the pad carefully on his stomach, arm resting at an awkward angle on Niall’s back. Zayn sketches him, snoring softly and sleeping on him with a furrowed brow and open mouth. His hair’s in disarray, shoved up along one side, already a dirty blond at the roots again, cheek mashed right under Zayn’s shoulder. 

The angle makes his wrist cramp soon enough; he holds the sketchpad close instead, just for a moment, doodles a little cartoon Niall on the corner of the page, wide caricature mouth filled with metal-covered teeth. He makes Niall’s hair spaghetti with meatballs in it and laugh. He tamps it down when Niall stirs, and finally gives up and rips the paper out of the sketchpad. He tosses the pad onto his bag, folds the paper up and writes _feel better :)_ on the outside with the pencil, drops them both onto Niall’s desk next to them as a present to find later.

Zayn easing himself back down when Niall blinks blearily blink his eyes open. He slurs, _wha’s’goin’on_. Zayn says, “Nothing, go back to sleep,” and he does. 

He looks down, scratches at Niall’s hair, tries in vain to make it not look like a bird’s nest, and falls back asleep a short time after.

*

Zayn wakes up again to Harry throwing his bag on his desk chair. Niall's asleep, shirt almost-soaked, but he comes to once Harry says, "Hey, how is he?"

"Better." Zayn brushes his hair back and sits them both up slowly, holding a hand to Niall’s forehead once more. "Think his fever finally broke."

Niall sags heavily against him, mumbling groggily, "I'm _fine_ , I said."

"Yeah,” Harry says, pulling his laptop out of his bag, “'cause Nurse Zayn was here the whole time."

"Sounds sexy," Zayn snorts.

Niall rubs his eyes, sits up a bit more. "Harry, shut up," he says, glaring with pink-tinged cheeks, and Harry holds his hands up in defense and grins.

"Hey, no need to be embarrassed of his _tender loving care_ , Niall."

"M'gonna punch you." Niall tries to get out of bed, then groans and sags into Zayn as he clutches his head. "Dizzy. Maim you later."

Harry ruffles his hair affectionately, nods at Zayn. "You can go, if you want. My last course is online so I can actually stay here for the rest of the night."

"Um." He pulls Niall's shirt from his chest; Niall shivers. "No, it's cool, I don't have class anyway."

Harry wordlessly heads to Niall’s side of the closet, combs through the clothes there until he finds a shirt to give Zayn. He says, “Are you sure? You're going to end up sick."

"That's alright," Zayn says, and nudges Niall's arms up so he can switch the clothes. He's got a pout on, and blinks blearily at them once he sticks his head through the new one, like they’re conspiring against him by being thoughtful. "Kinda doesn't matter at this point."

“I can take care of myself,” Niall says, but he’s half-asleep. Zayn just smooths down his hair.

"Hm." Harry's smiling now. "Such good traits in a _friend_ -"

Niall shoots an arm out, sudden, towards Harry's crotch, and Harry laughs and dances out of the way.

"Okay, okay! Sorry," he says, and Zayn's not really sure why he's apologizing, but before he has a chance to ask, Harry's already turning away, stuffing his wallet in his back pocket.

"I'm gonna go get dinner, but I’ll bring you two something on the way back since you probably haven't eaten in awhile."

He shuts the door behind him. Zayn stares at it and then looks down at Niall. “Feel okay?”

“Not really,” Niall says with a yawn. He wrinkles his nose. “I smell.”

“Yes,” Zayn nods, and Niall _hmphs_ and says, “So do you.”

“Yeah, well.” Zayn picks at his own shirt. “Sort of got bathed in _eau de Niall_ for a few hours, I’m allowed a sickly stench.”

“I think I’m gonna take a shower,” Niall says, climbing carefully out of his bed. When he manages to stand still without looking like he’s going to faint, he shoots Zayn a triumphant smile.

“You sure?” Zayn follows him off the bed, watches as he gathers up his clothes. “Well - at least leave the door unlocked.” 

Niall gives him a bewildered look. “I don’t understand, is that a proposition?”

“No,” Zayn laughs. “God, in case you fall, so I don’t have to get Liam to break the door down, fireman style.”

“Fine,” Niall says, and he’s wiping his nose with the back of his hand as opens the bathroom door with the other. “I won’t lock it. But don’t go all _Psycho_ on me, okay?”

Zayn rolls his eyes, and then crosses his heart. “Promise I won’t murder you in the shower.”

Niall sniffs. "Wonderful."

*

Niall lets Zayn shower after him, and Zayn steps out of the room wearing an over-sized sweater borrowed from Harry. He’s scrubbing his hair dry with a towel, and finds Niall’s sitting cross-legged on his bed, looking down at a paper in his hands.

He glances up when Zayn gets closer, mouth twisted like he’s trying not to smile. “Did you do this earlier?”

“Oh." Zayn can see spaghetti hair, and he grins and taps the paper. “Yeah, sorry. I woke up and there wasn’t much to do without waking you up, too, but doodle.”

“This isn’t a doodle.”

“You have meatballs in your hair.”

Niall shakes his head, points to the actual sketch Zayn did first. “This one, I mean.”

“Nah, it was just something quick, it’s not even good.”

“It’s great,” Niall corrects, quiet. “It’s really nice.”

“It’s dumb,” Zayn says, and Niall goes to push him, but brings him in closer instead, like he's changed his mind halfway through.

He smiles wider. Zayn tells him, “You don’t look so miserable anymore. You feel better?”

“You stayed with me,” Niall says contentedly, and he seems more like himself than he has all day. 

“That’s not an answer.”

Niall plays with the hem of his sweater now, puts the drawing down next to him.

“It is,” he says, and tugs on the sweater until Zayn’s forced to take a step forward.

“What’re you doing?”

Niall shrugs. He tilts his head. “Thanking you,” he says, but there’s a lilt to the end, like it’s a question. 

Zayn has his hands on the edge of the bed, on either side of Niall. “I didn’t even do anything.”

“You let me get my germs on you,” Niall says, and palms the nape of Zayn’s neck. He pauses, gauging Zayn’s reaction; the corner of Zayn’s mouth quirks up briefly at the hesitance. Niall kisses him there lightly.

He pulls away just a touch, asks with a sniff, “I don’t taste like snot, do I?”

Zayn studies him. Niall’s just broken his fever, and it’s mostly a bad idea (and possibly a bit disgusting) because he’s _sick_ , but Zayn still finds himself saying _can’t really tell from that_ anyway. Niall laughs, and it’s stuffed up, but he kisses Zayn for real this time.

He says, “I’m sorry if you get sick, but really, this is your own fault.”

And Zayn remembers Louis’ quiet _be careful_ , knows he said he wasn’t going to do this again, but right now - right now Niall’s just looking up at him, grinning, and Zayn can’t even bring himself to care about what happens after this.

He just kisses Niall back.

*

Zayn does end up getting sick, and Harry laughs when he sees Zayn wrapped up in a blanket like a weary, old grandmother. Still, Niall brings him junk food and medicine, and he smiles when Zayn thanks _him_ this time around, so.

It works out pretty well, in the end.

*

Neither of them are sick the next time it happens.

They’re in Zayn’s room, pretending to study for their respective courses when Niall suggests smoking instead. They go through two bowls, and the sun sets when they’re on their third and Niall says, “Wanna see something cool?”

Zayn is lying on his bed next to Niall. He runs his fingers along the grainy-coolness of his wall and nods slowly. Niall takes a long hit off the bowl, cashes it, and thumps Zayn on the chest with the back of the hand so he’ll pay attention.

Zayn says, “What?” and Niall holds up a finger.

He starts to blow rings of smoke - controlled circles, almost perfectly formed. He reaches up, snaps his fingers across the top of one.

It turns into a heart.

The smoke holds its shape for a moment or two before it dissolves into a wispy-grey nothing as it inches towards the ceiling and Niall laughs, and the rest of the smoke billows out of his mouth. He lies down, pressed along Zayn’s side. “Cool, right?”

“Yeah." Zayn lets his eyes slip shut. His body feels so _grounded_ and _good_ and he burrows deeper into the blanket beneath them, scoots right up against Niall’s side. “You’re a man of many talents.”

Niall snorts, mouth is somewhere near Zayn’s ear when he says, “You have no idea.”

Zayn opens his eyes then, looks at Niall until he looks back. There’s a second of silence, and then he laughs. Niall bites down on his bottom lip and laughs, too. He opens his mouth to say something, closes it. He waits until Zayn settles once more before he speaks: “I’m... I'm gonna do something, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And you - you can say no. Obviously.”

Zayn breathes, in and out, waiting. “I don’t think I will.”

Niall smiles, slow and easy. He turns on his side and taps his fingers to Zayn’s chin before swooping down and catching him with a kiss. He’s got a palm under Zayn’s jaw, tilts Zayn’s head the way he wants it; Zayn grips his elbow, and opens his mouth up. Niall breathes out, slides a leg between his, and he’s warm, and solid, and _there_ , and there’s no expectation with this, no constant commentary running in Zayn's head. It’s effortless, and so much less like a weight on Zayn’s shoulders than anything else has been this year, so he goes along with it.

Zayn slides a hand up the inside of Niall's shirt, and Niall clamps down on his wrist, shifts off him to lay on his back again. His chest rises and falls and he laughs again, hands over his eyes, loud and bright. Zayn wipes his mouth, and by the time he sits up, Niall is already stepping onto the floor and heading towards the living room. 

“Let’s play some FIFA, yeah?” he calls, and Zayn follows him out and grins. 

“Yeah, alright.”

*

It’s not a thing, kissing Niall.

It’s just something to do when they’re bored, or high, or on their way to drunk. Zayn’s not exactly sure when kissing him became a sort-of regular occurrence, but somehow it’s been a few weeks, and they’re at yet another party at Niall’s brother’s place, and Niall’s got his mouth on Zayn’s neck, teeth bared at the skin there as he murmurs _I vant to suck yer blood_.

Zayn laughs, can hear the bass from the loudspeakers _thump-thump-thumping_ and bleeding through the wall he’s pressed up against. “Are we roleplaying?” he jokes. “I can be like, a disgruntled villager or something.”

He squeezes Niall’s hips, tries to push them towards the bed but Niall holds onto his wrists and presses a kiss to his nose instead. He picks his snapback up from where it fell on the floor after Zayn knocked it off, puts it back on and adjusts himself in his jeans. 

They haven’t had sex yet. Haven’t done much beyond lazy kissing in cramped dorm room beds. Niall pulls away, every time, and continues onto the next thing as if it hasn’t happened. It makes whatever it is they're doing easier, if Zayn's being honest.

Niall is looking at his phone, tapping the screen. “We should get back. Harry just texted and asked if I’ve seen you.”

They haven’t told anyone else about this, haven’t jokingly brought it up when they’re all out together, and it’s. It's easier that way, too.

Zayn says, “Yeah, let’s go,” and after they attempt to sort themselves out - Niall's got rumpled hair and red cheeks, and his hat can only hide one of those - they head back into the party. Niall catches Zayn's eye, just before he gets lost in the crowd, and smiles.

Harry hands Zayn a beer when he sees him. "Where've you been? Thought you got lost."

Zayn takes a sip, and shrugs. "Sorry, something came up."

"Well, c'mon, I need a partner in beer pong - Liam won't drink and Lou's too drunk to focus."

He's tugging on Zayn's arm, and Zayn lets himself be dragged into the next room with a grin.

*

The others don’t know, and Niall always stops them before they start, really.

But it’s not a thing.

(He swears.)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall says, “Thanks, Z,” and leans down to take his bag from Zayn. 
> 
> In the same rushed, preoccupied movement, Niall turns his head, and kisses Zayn on the mouth. 
> 
> Zayn’s sure everyone at the table stops breathing for a few seconds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the part where Lots Of Things Happen JFC. also this is officially the penultimate part! (also also that song really is the only one irl niall knows how to play on the piano, or so he's said)

The other boys find out on accident.

The five of them are in the dining hall, eating dinner and keeping Niall company before his night class starts. They’re so invested in teasing Harry about the newest band he’s singing with (this one is called Jinkies!, and its members dress vaguely like characters in Scooby-Doo. Harry is Daphne and wears an orange wig. Louis laughs so loud he startles someone in line.) that they don’t even realize Niall’s got five minutes to get across campus to get to his lecture on time until Liam points it out. 

Niall curses and shoots up from his seat. He ruffles Harry’s hair, pulls Liam and Louis into twin one-armed hugs with him in the middle. Zayn reaches under the table to grab Niall’s bag, and he hands it off as Niall makes his way around. “Thanks, Z,” he says, and leans down to take his bag from Zayn. In the same rushed, preoccupied movement, Niall turns his head, and kisses Zayn on the mouth. 

Zayn is sure everyone at the table stops breathing for a few seconds.

Niall’s eyes are wide, like he’s surprised at himself. Then he straightens up and slides his messenger bag over his shoulder. “Uh,” he says, smiling small, clearly uncomfortable as his cheeks pink up, “well, that’s - yeah.”

Zayn pinches his bottom lip between his fingers. “You. That." He clears his throat, drops his hand and looks up at Niall. “Class?”

Niall tenses up with a, "Fuck, I - later!” and then he’s sprinting double-time out of the hall. 

There’s a single, beautiful moment of silence, and then Harry laughs. 

“What the shit,” he asks, “was _that_.”

“Nothing.” Zayn picks at the leftover food on his plate, and tries to ignore Harry as he leans forward.

“That’s - that is not _nothing_ , Zayn. That is a _yesthing_.”

“It’s not,” Zayn argues. “We’ve - it’s only happened a few - ”

“You’ve done it _before_?” Liam says, astonished, and Zayn stabs a half-eaten bit of carrot on his plate with a fork. 

“A few times.” He can’t stop his legs from jiggling up and down. “When we’re - when we’re bored.”

“When you’re _bored_ ,” Louis repeats stiffly.

Zayn thinks if maybe he was an animal, he’d be in the corner of the room already, hackles raised on the defensive. “Why are you - okay, Louis, you kissed Liam goodbye before we went home for the holidays last year. On the mouth!”

“Well, we weren’t gonna see each other for awhile,” Liam says. “Plus, that was on accident, I was aiming for his cheek. And that’s not the same, I don’t think.”

“I’m just saying.” Zayn grips the edge of the table, and his heart feels like it’s going to fall out of his chest, the way it’s beating so hard. “It’s not a - it’s just something that we’ve been doing, and it’s not bad.” He looks at the three of them. “It’s _fine_.” He pushes his plate into the center of the table, stuffs his things into the bag at his feet. “I have to go, anyway.”

Liam eyes narrow. "Yeah? How come?"

Zayn stands and slings his bag over his shoulders. “I, um. Forgot something in my room. I’ll be back.”

Louis gets up, too. “I’ll come with.”

“Nah, it’s - ”

“No, I’m coming with,” Louis says, decisive. Harry’s practically bouncing in his seat, glancing between the two of them. Liam’s wearing a slight, bemused frown. Zayn adjusts the straps on his bookbag and swallows and lets Louis nudge him towards the exit, hand on his back. “Let’s go.”

They’re at the exit when Zayn glances over at Liam and Harry: Liam’s got his shoulders hunched around his ears, shaking his head with his hands out in front of him, pure incredulity written into every line on his face, and Harry’s flapping his arms and speaking so loudly that the people at the table next to them keep glancing over.

Zayn meets Louis’ eye then, and Louis - Louis just looks disapproving, and it makes something apprehensive creep under Zayn’s skin.

*

Louis heads straight for the kitchen once they get inside the apartment, opens the fridge and grabs a couple beer bottles leftover from the last weekend. He hops up on the counter as Zayn drops his bag down, twists off the tops and hands one over.

“So,” Louis says after a few moments of awkward silence and a long pull from the bottle in his hand. He kicks his legs out straight. “How long has that been going on, then?”

Zayn shrugs, picks at the label on his bottle. “Not long.”

“Not since - it hasn’t been since Harry’s birthday, has it?”

Zayn shakes his head. "Remember - remember when Niall was sick?"

There's a wrinkle of consternation between Louis' eyebrows and he says, "Zayn, that was like a month ago."

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs, takes a sip of his beer. 

Louis pulls his legs up onto the counter and crosses his feet at the ankles. He sighs, “I thought you weren’t going to do it again. You said you weren’t.”

“Why do you even care, Lou?” Zayn puts his bottle on the counter, kicks at the leg of a chair. “Like - really. What’s it matter to you if we hook up occasionally?”

“Because you’re both my best friends, and I don’t want to see either of you get hurt?”

“Who said anything about anyone getting hurt?” Zayn leans against the counter, by Louis. “No one’s getting hurt, Louis. It’s -”

“Easy, I know,” Louis finishes. “Casual, fun, whatever laid-back adjective you’re using today to make yourself feel better about it.”

Zayn blinks up at him, leans back a little. “Are you seriously mad at me?”

“I - it’s like you’re deliberately being obtuse; it’s not fucking cute, Zayn,” Louis says, scathing, and Zayn sometimes forgets his temper, and how he knows which words are designed to cut.

Neither of them speaks for a long while, and then Louis says, like he’s trying to be careful about his tone: “Niall’s not a consolation prize.”

“I - what?”

“He’s not some - Zayn, you can’t replace Liam with him. Like, if that’s why you’re doing it, because you want someone to want you, then it’s - it’s screwed up.”

Zayn shakes his head and he snatches the beer bottle off the counter to the throw it away, still half full. “Fuck you, Lou. You think I’m using him?”

“Are you?” Louis shoots back. “I know this stuff with Liam’s all mixed up, and maybe things with Niall are _easier_ but there’s - you can’t do this with him and not expect anything to come out of it. It can get messy.”

“Niall never lets anything get messy,” Zayn says, and he figures Louis knows what he means, because he smiles. It's cold. 

“What, you’re just gonna keep doing this and hope he’ll pick up the slack? Functional relationships don’t work like that, Zayn.”

“What the hell would you know about functional relationships,” Zayn tells him coolly and Louis laughs, dry and humorless.

“I know fuck-all, to be honest,” he says, hopping off the counter.

He makes it to the edge of the kitchen and stops, scrubs his hands over his face and turns to Zayn. “Shit - no. I didn’t come here to fight with you. I’m not - I’m really not trying to make you out to be the bad guy here.”

Zayn snorts in response.

“It’s - I don’t even think you know what you’re doing, Zayn. Are you, are you over Liam, or what? Do you really not feel anything for Niall at _all_ because,” Louis looks down, “if you say you don’t, then. I don’t know.”

There’s this clawing feeling in Zayn’s gut and he crosses his arms to hide the way his hands are shaking. He says, for the second time that day, “I - it’s nothing.”

Louis’ brows jump up towards his hairline, and his smile this time around is like he got the exact answer he was expecting. “You know, maybe you’re right, and it’s not anything to Niall," he says with a shrug. "Maybe he doesn’t like you like that. But maybe he does. Or _can_ , at least, and you’re downplaying it because you don’t know how to properly want someone who isn’t Liam.”

Louis scratches at the hair at his nape and adds softly, "You can't keep anyone who might have a remote interest in you at arm's length forever, Zayn. Or turn it into this game where you pretend things can’t get out of hand. Liam loves you - he _loves_ you - but it's never been the way you wanted, and I'm, I'm sorry but you're not gonna be happy if you spend your whole life hoping _maybe_ that’ll change."

Zayn can't look at him. He chews on the inside of his mouth to hide the way it pinches, tugged down in the corners, and doesn’t register Louis coming closer until he’s in front of Zayn, hands on the nape of his shoulders. He tilts Zayn’s head up and he says, “Please don’t be upset. It’s just - everyone always thinks Niall’s this like, impenetrable force of sunshine or something, like nothing ever gets to him.”

Louis lifts a shoulder once more, apologetic. “Someone has to look out for him.”

The only thing Zayn trusts hinself to say is Louis' name, low, a bit pleading, because he _can’t_. He can’t talk about them, can’t do any of this right now. 

Louis nods, like he gets it, maybe, and presses a kiss to the top of Zayn’s head. “Yeah, I’m going.”

Zayn follows him as far as the entrance to the kitchen, and then watches from the doorway. Louis’ got the front door open when he turns in place.

“One thing, though?”

“What?”

Louis sticks his hands deep in his front pockets. 

“If it’s nothing, then,” he stretches his arms out and bounces up on his toes, “why didn’t you want any of us to know?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, mostly because Zayn knows _Louis_ knows he’s not going to get one. He just jerks his thumb behind him, towards the stairs. “Should go. I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks, and it’s hesitant. Zayn nods. 

“Love you,” he hears Louis murmur, careful and honest, and Zayn laughs, then, before pressing his lips together. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Love you, too.”

*

Things between Zayn and Louis aren’t even _weird_ after that, exactly - Louis calls him that night to talk, and Zayn gets it, he does: Louis’ got a protective streak a mile long and it’s harder to deal with when the people involved are _both_ people he loves, so. Zayn gets it.

He does stop hooking up with Niall, though. 

Zayn’s head is a bit of a mess at the moment, sort of like it’s gotten jumbled past the point of being untangled properly. He just - he can’t keep things up with Niall when all he hears is Louis telling him he’s trying to replace Liam because honestly? Honestly, Zayn’s not even sure _what_ he’s doing anymore. About anything. 

So he and Niall sort of just... stop. 

Niall makes it simple, at least. He doesn’t ask why, and he still treats Zayn the same. Still smiles the same, and laughs the same. And when Zayn hugs him goodbye, he still tucks his head under Zayn’s chin (a habit Niall developed with the four of them that he hasn’t bothered to break yet).

It’s all the _same_ , except sometimes when they're alone, doing whatever - playing video games, smoking, studying - there'll be these moments where he and Niall are in his dorm, on his bed with a mound of junk food between them. Zayn will drift in and out of quiet laughter and Niall will look at him, head tilt and lazy smile and all, and his eyes’ll flick down to Zayn’s mouth and Zayn knows, he _knows_ , Niall wants to kiss him.

But he doesn’t.

(And Zayn’s not sure if he’s relieved or disappointed, but he figures maybe he’s better off not knowing.)

*

“I have news,” Harry announces from his seat on the sofa. He leans back against Niall, tilts his head up to look at him and Niall grins.

“ _We_ have news, Harry,”

From the kitchen, Liam asks, “Are you getting married?”

“Liam and I are godparents to any future children!” Louis says immediately, and Liam laughs.

“I’ll be the responsible godparent and Louis can be the reckless but loving uncle who buys too many presents.”

“Yeah, that’s probably more accurate,” Zayn snorts from the floor, and then asks, “when’s the big day?”

Harry smiles demurely and rests his head on Niall’s shoulder. “We were thinking Autumn, just as the leaves turn colors.”

“And orange suits. You look great in orange,” Niall tells him, nuzzling him. 

“No one looks great in orange,” Zayn says, and Louis shakes his head, points at Harry.

“No, it’s true. Pumpkins and Harry Styles. Only two things in the world that can pull off orange.”

“I am basking in the glow of your praise,” Harry says, eyes shut, a hand to his heart, and then sits forward to grab his beer. “No, really, it’s pretty cool news? Niall and I are playing at an open mic night. We’ve been messing around with some songs for awhile now, and he taught me how to play the guitar, so.”

“Harry,” Zayn laughs, “Harry, did you join a band you actually like?”

“I _did_ ,” Harry says, his cheek dimpling. “You guys have to come. You’ll come right? It’s Friday. Figured it’s a good way to send us all off for Spring break.”

“Course we’re coming,” Louis smiles, and leans over to pat his knee. 

“Yeah, wouldn’t miss it,” Zayn promises. 

“Garfield!” Liam shouts from the kitchen. 

Niall cranes his neck to look towards the kitchen. “What are you yelling about?”

Liam pokes his head out of the doorway, and he’s got a plate of fresh cookies in hands. “The cat? Garfield the Cat and pumpkins and Harry.”

They stare at him in silence, and Liam frowns. 

“They’re all things that look good in orange?”

*

By the time Zayn gets out of his night class and makes it down to the open mic night to meet up with Louis, Liam and Danielle, it's already past ten. The third act is up and just about finished, and the place is packed. It’s a tight fit through the crowd, but he manages to find his friends standing to the right of the stage. Judging by his texts, Zayn guessed Louis was already tipsy, and it's confirmed when Louis gives him a wet, smacking kiss on the cheek when he sees him.

“Heyyy, Zayn! This band sucks, Harry and Niall are gonna be way better.”

A guy next to them scowls at Louis - probably a friend of the band onstage now - and Louis narrows his eyes, leans forward and stage whispers, “You’re wearing a fedora, did you know that?” 

The guy says, “Yes,” and Louis raises his hands. 

“Okay, I just wanted to make sure.”

Zayn grimaces when the singer’s voice cracks on a high note, thinks he turns it into a pretty convincing smile at the guy, and steers Louis away from getting punched by a human being in a fedora, even though it’d possibly be the greatest thing to hold over Louis’ head for the rest of his life. He asks, voice raised over the music, “Where are they, anyway?” 

“Backstage,” Danielle points towards a red curtain and laughs. “Or - backcurtain, I guess?”

Liam hands him a drink. “Niall texted to ask if you were here yet.”

“Me?”

Danielle’s look over her glass at Liam, amused, and he shrugs back at her. “Yep.”

Louis’ leaning into him, and he turns his head to bite Zayn’s neck. “Hey, you know what? Niall is so great. Zayn, Niall is great, isn’t he?”

“He is,” Zayn agrees, trying to pull his phone out of his pocket without sloshing the beer in his hand and disrupting the Louis at his side. 

_Here with Li and Louis and Danielle :)_ he texts, and he only has to wait a moment before he gets a response:

_Just stopepd Harry from puking!!!!!!!!! Ahahahaha_

Zayn laughs, writes _Aww he’ll be great u both will :) good luck :D_

“Tell Harry not to puke,” Louis says, chin on Zayn’s shoulder. “Tell him he’s amazing and everyone is gonna love him.” 

“I already did,” Liam says, and Louis beams at him. 

“Of course you did, Liam! Because you’re thoughtful. You’re thoughtful and you have very sad eyebrows.”

“You’re drunk,” Zayn tells him, and Louis snorts. 

“Only slightly. It was just to get through the shitty acts up before our infinitely more talented best friends.”

_Where are you guys standin??? I cant check , Harrys moaning in my lap_

_What kind of performance is this exactly ;-)_

“Haha, gross,” Louis says, and Zayn nudges him towards Liam.

“Stop reading my texts.”

_HAHAHAHA fuck off man he’s nervous and im petting his hair!!!!_

“Harry’s nervous,” Zayn announces to the group. “Think he’s blowing Niall to calm himself down.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Liam says, and Danielle throws her back and laughs. 

“God, you guys are so weird.”

_We’re stage left btw. Next 2 guy wearing fedora._

The band finally gets offstage, and tech heads on in their place to start setting up an electric keyboard, an acoustic guitar - one of Niall's, it looks like - and mic stands. “Oh, this is them!” Louis says, smacking Zayn on the chest. “Harry said Niall’s playing the piano.”

“I thought Niall didn’t know how to play the piano?” Liam asks him.

"Well, he only knows one song.”

Zayn gets one last text - this one just says _You should say hi he sounds cool!!! :P_ \- and then someone - the coordinator, Zayn assumes, introduces Harry and Niall to a mass of cheers and really, is there anyone who isn’t their friend? Niall goes straight for the guitar and laughs when Harry tugs him back by the hem of his tank. 

“Right, sorry,” Zayn hears him say, clapping Harry on the back, “habit,” and he shifts to the keyboard.

Then Harry’s slinging the guitar over _his_ shoulders, and Niall leans up into his mic says, “This is seriously the only song I know on the piano, so sorry if I mess up a few chord changes here and there.”

“You’re perfect to me, Niall!” Louis shouts, and Harry lets out a bark of laughter that the crowd laughs back at.

They start playing then, and Harry’s plucks of Niall’s guitar are endearingly hesitant, soft and lilting. Niall’s looking down at the keys beneath his own fingers, and Zayn knows this song.

“I know this song,” he tells them, and Danielle’s got a hand on her cheek and says, “Aw, I love this song.”

Harry leans into his microphone, sings, “ _I don’t know you, but I want you all the more for that._ ”

Niall joins in at the next line in the verse, and they sound sort of ridiculously wonderful together. Zayn doesn’t know how he forgets sometimes, that he has friends who are _good_ at this, who love performing. He can see it in the way Harry’s looking out into the crowd to gauge their reaction, in the way Niall’s smiling like even being here, in a so-so bar with great friends, is enough for him. 

Niall looks over at them - at Zayn - and his smile gets wider. Zayn gives him two thumbs up and he hears Danielle say, “Can’t all of you sing? You did that weird melody at Zayn’s birthday party.”

“Well, Zayn can,” Liam says.

“ _You_ can, too,” Louis tells him.

“So can you,” Liam says quietly, adds, “and don’t you dare disagree with me,” before Louis has a chance to.

“Well, if none of your artsy careers pan out, you could start a band,” Danielle says, “because this sounds beautiful.”

Zayn makes a noncommittal sound, watches Harry catch Niall’s eye. He’s playing quick and not at all self-conscious anymore, and Niall is still grinning as both their voices join in on the chorus.

“He sounds great, doesn’t he?” Louis says proudly, hanging off Zayn’s back, and Zayn just nods dumbly, figures he’s talking about Harry - and, yeah, Harry’s great, Harry’s amazing, but then Niall looks back down at the keyboard, and it’s only his voice that sings,

“ _Falling slowly - eyes that know me_ ,” he darts his head up then, and he finds Zayn almost immediately, sings through a slow smile, “ _and I can’t go back_.”

“... _Well_ ,” Danielle says. 

Lous leans up behind Zayn, and presses his mouth to Zayn’s ear. 

He says, “Still wanna pretend it’s nothing?”

*

Later, when they’ve all had a few drinks in them and Niall and Harry have packed away their things in Danielle’s car, Harry finds Zayn sitting on at a table along the side of the bar. He sits down across from Zayn, slides over one of the two beers in his hands.

He smiles. “My favorite thing about college is how many bars will serve me illegally.”

“Harry, anyone would give you _anything_ if you smiled at them long enough,” Zayn tells him as he takes a sip, and Harry lifts his hands, all _well, what can you do_.

“Where is everyone?”

Zayn nods towards the center of the room. The stage is empty now, and the coordinator has replaced the live music with someone’s iPod in the dock behind the bar. There’s an LMFAO song playing - Zayn figures a song about taking shots will always be relevant, probably - and he can see Liam and Danielle doing some fist-pump thing along to it while Louis’ stands in between them, thrusting obscenely.

“Lou’s going to get arrested for indecent exposure one day, doing that,” Harry comments idly. Zayn laughs, and Harry clasps his hands around his glass, quiet for a moment.

Then he sucks in a breath and says, “Hey, so - are you and Niall still...?”

“Um." Zayn takes a gulp of his drink. “No, we - we stopped.”

“Oh.”

“Why?”

Harry shrugs, mouth tugging down thoughtfully. “Thought maybe you still were. On account of Niall practically serenading you in front of a whole crowd of people tonight, and all.”

“He wasn’t,” Zayn says, and Harry gives him a look.

“Zayn, I know serenading when I see it.”

“I think you’re obsessed with finding romantic gestures,” Zayn tells him, and Harry ruffles his hair out and looks towards the dancefloor.

“It’s not even like I had to look that hard,” he says, and then: “I think Niall likes you.”

“Harry.”

“And I know - I know Louis said something to you, that day Niall kissed you in front of us. He wouldn’t tell me what, but I know him.”

Zayn doesn’t say anything, and Harry smiles again, quick and bright.

“You’re going to have to talk about it eventually, Zayn. Not healthy, keeping stuff in like that.” He knocks his knuckles the table. “Anyway, I figured maybe you didn’t know, and that’s why you been sort of stupid and haven’t done anything about it. I know it’s kind of hard to tell the difference, since Niall sort of acts like he’s half in love with all his friends, anyway, but. Pretty sure it’s mostly just you.”

“Weren’t you trying to help me get _Liam_ at the beginning of this year?” Zayn asks, and Harry downs the rest of his drink in one go.

“Objectives can change,” he says cryptically, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Zayn shakes his head, tries not to be amused by the way Harry’s squinting at him.

“Harry, go dance with our friends.”

“I am. But Niall’s outside with some kids he knows, and you should go talk to him.”

“Talk about _what_ , Harry.”

“I don’t know,” Harry says breezily, and rises from his seat. “How much you secretly want to touch his dick?”

“That’s not a romantic gesture!” Zayn tells him, exasperated, as Harry walks away.

“That’s not a _de-niiial_ ,” Harry sing-songs, walking backwards towards the others. Then he laughs and calls loudly, “And it _is_ romantic if you try hard enough!”

*

Zayn goes outside anyway, even when he sees Harry smirking at him from over Liam's head on the dancefloor. Niall is off to the side of the building, talking to a group of people, and he turns his head when he hears the door to the place open. His face is flushed from drinking, and it lights up when he sees Zayn. He grins, and he excuses himself so he can make his way over.

“Hey!” he says, and his eyes are glazed over in that happy-drunk way. “You out for a smoke?”

“Ah, yeah,” Zayn pulls his pack out of his back pocket, offers it to Niall. “You want?”

Niall shakes his head and Zayn glances over at the people he was talking to. “You can - I mean, you don’t have to stop talking to your friends.”

“Nah, they’re fine without me,” Niall says. “Wanna walk around the block or something? It’s nice out tonight.”

He tugs on the sleeve of Zayn’s shirt, his eyes all scrunched up, and Zayn smiles back at him, feeling, of all things, suddenly shy. “Alright.”

Niall’s arm brushes his when they turn the corner. “You going home for Spring break?”

Zayn lights his cigarette, nods on an inhale. “Yeah, Liam and I are driving up Sunday. You?”

“Tomorrow,” he says, sticks his hands in his pockets. “So. What’d you think of me and Harry?”

“Amazing," Zayn smiles at him through the smoke that pours out of his mouth.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, but. You always sound amazing.”

Niall grins, and knocks his snapback up to run a hand through his hair. “You should join us sometime.”

“Nah, never been my thing,” Zayn says, and chuckles when Niall laughs and shoves at him. 

“Fuck, I wish I had a voice like yours.”

“Yours is great the way it is,” Zayn tells him, sliding an arm across his shoulders and pulling him in close. “I really like that song.”

Niall lopes an arm around Zayn’s waist. “Yeah, it’s beautiful.”

“It’s sad.”

Niall leans his back to look at Zayn, a little surprised. “You think?”

Zayn inhales, a long, drawn out drag, and holds the cigarette away from them. “Isn’t it?"

“I always thought it was about change,” Niall says, his fingers absently dancing along Zayn’s side. “Like, trying to fix something and realizing you can’t and instead you just... Let it go.” He watches the end of Zayn’s cigarette burn. “And you wish for the best. It is kind of sad, maybe. But hopeful, too.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve always been more optimistic than me,” Zayn says. 

Niall laughs. “You should try it sometime. It's refreshing.” 

Zayn stops them to put out his cigarette under his boot, and Niall's phone goes off. He’s tapping away as Zayn lights a second, arm still around Niall’s neck. Niall tips his screen up and shows Zayn a text from Liam: 

_Leavinnggggg :) do you need a ride or are you busyyyyyy ;)_

Zayn blows the smoke away from them, grins and turns them to head back the way the came. Niall reaches up to catch his wrist.

“Thanks for coming tonight.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t or something?”

Niall shrugs, twists the ring on Zayn's index finger. “Dunno, sort of been giving you space.”

Zayn laughs and Niall looks confused for a moment before Zayn glances down at the way they're walking, close together, touching in all the right spots. Niall rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Okay, not _that_ much.”

“...I’m sorry everything’s all,” Zayn waves the hand holding his cigarette around, hopes it conveys whatever he needs it to. Mixed up. Fucked up. Messy, for all that Zayn stupidly thought he could avoid it. 

Niall taps the ring. “Whatever, I get it.”

But. He doesn't, possibly, so Zayn takes a breath, and says softly, “It's not. It's not anything on, on you. I think I’m still trying to figure things out. And I - I don’t want to complicate it more. I mean, anymore.”

Niall laughs, just as quiet. “I’ve never really been that complicated, Zayn.”

“You aren’t,” Zayn says. “It’s just, all the other - all the other things that I need to -”

“Figure out,” Niall finishes with a grin. “Right. Do me a favor though?”

They near the corner again, and stop walking. Zayn flicks his cigarette away, faces Niall. “What?”

He can hear their friends, talking outside of the entrance. Niall hesitates, just for a moment, and then leans forward, mindful of the way Zayn’s looking at him. 

He presses a quick kiss to Zayn’s cheek, and when he pulls away he’s smiling. 

“Let me know when you do?”

*

**To: Zayn**  
 **From: Louis**  
Are you gonna be home soon?

 **To: Louis**  
**From: Zayn**  
...Im on my way back from a friends

 **To: Louis**  
**From: Zayn**  
Lou are u at my HOUSE :S

 **To: Louis**  
**From: Zayn**  
Lou???

 **To: Louis**  
**From: Zayn**  
HOW IS UR CAR EVEN RUNNING STILL U DRIVE EVERWHERE ???

 **To: Zayn**  
**From: Louis**  
Your mother is a beautiful woman, Zayn.

 **To: Louis**  
**From: Zayn**  
Don’t touch anything or anyone until I get there  >:|

 **To: Zayn**  
**From: Louis**  
Too late ;)

*

Louis is already in his bedroom when Zayn gets there. He has his hands clasped behind his back as he peers at the books on Zayn’s shelves. Zayn drops his bag down on his bed and says, “Lou?”

“You know, I was assuming you'd own like, four copies of _Catcher in the Rye_ for some reason.”

Zayn slumps down onto his bed. “How long did it take you to drive here?”

“Funny thing, I actually live closer to your childhood home than your school.” Louis looks down at him, smirking. “Your mom said I could _come_ over whenever I wanted.”

“I’m going to push you down my stairs,” Zayn tells him calmly, and Louis laughs and tackles him down fully on his bed. He’s sitting on Zayn’s knees, holding his hands to his chest. 

“Hi,” he says, and Zayn grins and pulls him down into a hug. 

“It’s nice to see you,” he says as Louis rolls off him to sit against the wall. “But why are you here?”

“Oh, um. I dropped out of my school.” He goes to move off the bed and adds nonchalantly, “Hey, are you hungry? Your mom made cookies while we waited for you.”

“You - _what_ \- ?” Zayn yanks Louis back down, sits up so he can look at him properly. “You did what?”

“Not,” Louis waves a hand, “not technically. I mean, I’m finishing off the year. And I wanna look for an apartment.”

“I don’t - Louis, you’re like, skipping three parts ahead of where I’m at right now. You dropped out?”

“I - well. I transferred? Or am going to. I just, um. Finalized everything, I guess.”

“Where are you going?”

Louis smiles. “About thirty minutes away from you four?”

Zayn looks at him, and something clicks: “That’s - is that why you were around campus when Harry thought you were sick?”

Louis nods. "I was talking to the financial aid office and just went to that café because Harry always takes me there and it was the only coffee place I knew in the area.”

"Thirty minutes." Zayn grab onto Louis' wrist. "Wow. You’ve been planning this for a while, then?"

Louis pulls his legs up to his chest, rests his cheek on his knees. “I don’t know, it wasn’t - I mean, I know going to a university isn’t supposed to _just_ be fun but I - I missed being around people I love, you know? I wasn't really happy. This year kind of made me - I _hate_ going back every Sunday,” he says quietly. “The farther away I got from everyone, the - the weirder it felt. It just sucked.”

He looks so serious. Zayn smiles, slow, and sits forward. He just wants that look off Louis' fce, so he teases, “Oh my God, you have separation anxiety when you're from us, don't you.”

It works. Louis shoves at him, laughing. “Shut up.”

Zayn nudges him. “Do you like the new school?”

“Yeah, I’ve walked around campus a couple times, checked out some classes. I really - I think this is a good. I think it’s better for me.”

“That’s great, Lou,” Zayn says. “I mean it."

“Good to know.” Louis picks his head back up, hesitates before saying, “Can, can I talk about Niall, or will we fight again?”

“That wasn’t a fight. You were being protective and I,” Zayn bites his lip, and flops down onto his bed. “And I’m a fucking idiot, really.”

“Don’t put yourself down.” Louis peers down at him, frowning. “But - does that mean you’re gonna talk to me about it?”

Zayn looks up at his ceiling, and Louis waits, patient, before he says, “Unrequited love’s pretty safe, I think.”

“Yeah?”

Zayn nods. “It’s - being in love with someone who won’t ever love you back isn’t - even if it hurts, you’re never actually going to get rejected because there’s no chance of it working out, anyway. Like, there was never any point in telling Liam, or trying - or seeing if he _could_ because I knew -”

Zayn swallows, and Louis curls his hand around Zayn’s. “I knew he wouldn’t. So - how can I give him a chance when there was never a chance to be had, you know? But I got - when you said,” Zayn scrubs at his hair. “When you asked if I was replacing Liam, I didn’t answer because I was scared that I was.”

“I talk so much shit, Zayn, don’t ever listen to a thing I say,” Louis tells him promptly.

“No, but - you had a point? I didn’t - I sort of tried to keep it as casual as possible because I didn’t know if I wanted Niall because I _couldn’t_ want Liam, or if I - if I actually _did_ want Niall and-”

Zayn laughs, and shakes his head. “You know how fucking terrified I was by that possibility? For years, I’ve felt like, like my brain was just wired to feel that way about Liam and no one else, so it scared me when I started to - when Niall made me _unsure_ about it. And if Niall likes me - ”

Zayn sits up, leans so he can rest his arms on his knees. “I’ve only ever really cared about Liam, and Liam’s never wanted me back like that. That’s - that’s all I’ve _known_ how to deal with for the past - what, three, four years? But with Niall, there’s - there’s a legitimate chance for failure. And it won’t be because the other person I actually care about doesn’t wanna be with me this time. I can screw everything up, and I don’t want to.” 

The tips of his ears are burning.

“I _really_ don’t want to.”

He’s looking in his lap, and Louis doesn’t say anything for so long that Zayn starts to get worried. He glances up and Louis’ staring at him, his mouth open slightly. Zayn clears his throat. “Louis?”

“Uh,” Louis shakes his head like he’s clearing it. “Sorry, you’re really, honestly talking about him. I got a little overwhelmed.”

“Louis.”

“Does this mean - do you like him?” Louis asks, and Zayn narrows his eyes. Louis bounces in his seat and grins. “Right! Okay. Okay, I. Wow. This is - is this how parents feel when their kids go on their first dates or whatever, Jesus.”

He takes Zayn’s face in his hands, smooshes his cheeks together. “I am so happy right now. Also, I think the fact that Niall scrambled your brain sort of proves that he’s different from other people you’ve been with or - or had crushes on or whatever.” He brings Zayn’s head closer. “That he’s different from Liam. Because he is.” 

“C’n’t breaf,” Zayn says, and Louis drops his hands. 

“And what the fuck do you mean _if_ , Zayn? I think Niall’s at least a little bit in love with you.”

Zayn remembers what Harry told him. “Niall’s a little bit in love with everyone.”

“Yeah, but you’re you and I’m me and Niall definitely doesn’t want to stick his tongue in _my_ mouth as often as possible.” Louis slides off the bed to pace. “God, today has been so productive. I find out I can transfer in the fall, you voice your feelings about certain blond people with affinities for tank tops and beer.”

He stops and stops in front of Zayn. “I am the wrong person for that voicing, by the way. Entirely wrong. You should be telling him this, not me.”

Zayn must give Louis the weakest, most unconvincing nod of his life because Louis stands in front of him says, “Hey, look, you already got it off your chest with me. Consider it practice. You go back Monday, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool, so tell him then.”

“I don’t - _how_?”

“I don’t fucking know, he’s Niall. Make him a pot brownie and stuff an onion ring in it, I’m pretty sure he’s not going to care about the details.” 

Louis’ got his hands on Zayn’s neck again. 

He smiles. “I’m really glad you got your shit together, Malik.”

“Thanks.”

“C’mon, let’s go. I was about to ask your mom out to dinner before you hightailed it over here.”

“I can still push you down the stairs,” Zayn says as Louis opens the door to his room.

“She’s a wonderful woman. I’m sure she’d love some company.”

“You know my dad can probably twist you into a pretzel, right?”

Louis mulls this over at the top of the stairs and then nods as he heads down. “Hm. Yeah, I could be into that.”

*

**To: Niall**  
 **From: Zayn**  
So.. I think I figured things out :)

 **To: Zayn**  
**From: Niall**  
Hahaha yeah??? Whats the verdict

 **To: Niall**  
**From: Zayn**  
I'll tell u when we hang out

 **To: Zayn**  
**From: Niall**  
Yeh sure!!! Harry wants to go to this new place when we come back anyway

 **To: Niall**  
**From: Zayn**  
No - just us?

 **To: Zayn**  
**From: Niall**  
Ohhh :D

 **To: Zayn**  
**From: Niall**  
Name the time n place n im there!!

 **To: Niall**  
**From: Zayn**  
Thursday ok? Yours? Or is H gonna be there

 **To: Zayn**  
**From: Niall**  
Hahahaha Ill kick Harry out for the night!!!!!! Thursday is perfect :)

*

With the hectic return from break, Zayn spends his week working on projects and papers and doesn’t get a chance _breathe_ , let alone talk to Niall until the Thursday they’re supposed to meet up, anyway. He changes half a dozen times, and he’s frowning at himself in his mirror when Liam walks past the bathroom and says, “Hey, Dani’s coming over later - ”

He stops instead to look in. “I like your jacket. You look like a greaser.”

“I look like an idiot. Ineed a haircut,” Zayn tells him.

“No, you don’t. It looks fine.” Liam tilts his head. “Are you going on a date?”

Zayn waits one moment, two, and says surely, “No.” 

And then he remembers Niall texted him Wednesday asking if he could make dinner using the communal kitchen on his floor, and he says, “Maybe? No.” He shakes his head. “No, I’m not.”

“Okay, Zayn,” Liam says with a laugh, and Zayn smiles weakly.

“I’ll tell you, if it is one? If it - if it turns out to be one. I don’t think it is but. I hope it is, but. I will?”

Liam nods, and he knocks Zayn under the chin with his fingers. “You look happy, though. Even if it isn’t one.”

“I’m probably going to throw up tonight,” Zayn says gravely, and Liam sits on the edge of the tub. 

“Aim for the toilet, if you do,” he advises, and Zayn just laughs, and leans over the sink and he’s - he is happy. 

He’s really fucking happy.

“I am happy,” he says, out loud, looking down at Liam.

Liam smiles.

“Yay,” he says.

*

Niall is waiting for him in front when he gets there, and they do a weird handshake-no-wait-are-we-hugging thing before Niall laughs and throws his arms around Zayn’s neck.

“Always overthinking,” he chides, and Zayn hides a smile against his neck. 

“I’m working on it, I promise.”

*

Zayn is so nervous when he gets inside Niall’s room that he’s actually a little dizzy, and when Niall suggests they just do what they normally do and then get to the other stuff later, Zayn readily agrees. Which is how he finds himself blowing smoke out a Niall’s window twenty minutes later, already starting to get the heavy-tongue, heavy-limbed sated feeling that comes from a particularly good session.

This time when they’re sitting on Niall’s bed, and Niall’s eyes flick down to his mouth, Zayn leans forward before he can lose his nerve and -

Well, he kisses Niall on the nose. And it’s not much, but Niall laughs, so maybe it’s a start.

*

In retrospect, they should have probably tried to make dinner _before_ smoking. Niall says he’s making bowtie pasta, but he fucks up the first batch and they end up too soggy. He tips the mess out into the trash, sets the pot up again and Zayn offers, vainly, to help, but Niall’s waves him away, again and again.

“I can do this,” he says as the water starts to boil. “I swear, I practiced. Harry said it was great. ”

“You practiced making dinner?” Zayn’s biting down a smile from where he’s leaning against the wall with a pasta box in his hands. “You practiced making me dinner?”

“I didn’t want to mess it up,” Niall says, eyebrows knitting together as he stares at the pot. He squints and sighs, “I am way too high for this right now.”

“Niall,” Zayn reaches out to tug him in. “Niall, c’mere.”

Niall lets himself be pulled, he stumbles into Zayn, steadies himself with a hand on Zayn’s waist. “What?”

Zayn thumps him with the pasta box. “Please let me make it. I’m so hungry.”

Niall’s laughing and shaking his head. He looks down at their shoes. “No, I was supposed to impress you with my brilliant cooking.”

“You don’t really have to impress me more than you already have,” Zayn says, and when Niall looks up at that, he closes his eyes and laughs. “I mean, you know. Generally speaking. You’re - very impressive. You’re an impressive person.”

“Thank you,” Niall tells him, and he rubs his thumb back and forth along Zayn’s side, contemplative. “Are we talking about this now?”

“Probably a good idea, yeah.”

“I,” Niall stops, opens and closes his mouth a times before he’s looking away and laughing. His cheeks are getting redder by the second, and Zayn asks, delighted:

“Niall, are you nervous?”

“No,” Niall says stubbornly. And then, with a grumble, “A little.”

Zayn’s smile is probably verging on dopey, now. “I’ve never seen you nervous before.”

Niall raises a shoulder, and smiles back. “There’s a first time for everything.”

Zayn brings his hand one up and - hesitates, just a touch, before placing it at the juncture of Niall’s neck and shoulder, his thumb resting against a collarbone. “You’re not - you’re not a second choice.”

“No?”

Zayn shakes his head. "No."

Niall's grip tightens on his waist. “What am I, then?”

“I don’t know.” Zayn shrugs. “You.”

The ends of Niall’s mouth quirk up. “That sounds pretty good, actually. I like me.”

Zayn pauses, and then grins, because if there was ever an opening, that’d be it. Niall knows it, too - he’s smiling, and waiting, and Zayn says, “I like -”

There’s a hissing noise, and Niall looks over his shoulder. The water in the pot's boiled over the sides, and is dripping along the stove top and onto the floor and Zayn didn’t know water could sound so _angry_. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” Niall all but shouts, trying to turn the stove off without scalding himself. He finally manages it, and he’s standing in a puddle in the middle of the kitchen and staring at Zayn with a stupefied expression before he starts giggling. Zayn says through his own laughter, “Niall, I think you burned _water_.”

Niall just cackles.

Zayn reaches for him, to get him out of the puddle, and Niall’s wheezing. “How the fuck do you burn _water_?”

"I don't knooow," Niall drags out the last word, shaking his head as he presses his face to Zayn’s chest. 

Zayn’s grinning so wide he might strain something, and he’s got an arm around Niall when Niall turns his head, says through out-of-breath laughs, “God, I give up on the fucking food - can I _please_ just kiss you now?”

Zayn’s laugh dies down to a quiet chuckle, and Niall watches him with a careful smile. He gets a hand on the small of Zayn’s back, spreads his fingers and digs in and Zayn's always loved touching another body after he smokes - his own is _thrumming_ still, the high blooming from his chest outwards, curling around every part of him like this aching, rolling wave, and he’s not laughing anymore, just feels loose-limbed and reckless.

Niall says, “Zayn?” and Zayn shuffles forward, quick, backs Niall into the counter, boxes him in with hands on either side of him. Zayn’s head lolls to the side, too heavy to hold up suddenly, and his nose brushes along Niall’s cheek and he can _seehearfeel_ so much clearer: Niall’s heart beating hard against his chest, Niall’s fingertips trailing tiny points like electric shocks up his arm, Niall’s quiet sigh when Zayn’s mouth ghosts over his.

Zayn says, “This is me uncomplicating things.”

Niall puffs out a laugh, a fraction of an inch away from his mouth, and it sounds the slightest bit out of breath. His back bows against the counter from Zayn pressing in closer. He hovers, just out of reach, and Zayn knows Niall’s still leaving the rest of the distance up to him, like he always has, so Zayn does the only thing he can think of, really: 

Zayn kisses him. 

Only - Niall’s already smiling, so Zayn mostly gets teeth. Niall’s got a hand on the nape of his neck, and he catches Zayn’s bottom lip between his own and - and it’s - 

It’s probably the best not-first kiss he’s ever had, to be honest.

Which is, of course, why the universe chooses that moment to make his phone blare loudly. Zayn jumps, separates them and stills for a moment before dropping his head to Niall’s shoulder with a sigh. Niall’s running his hands up and down Zayn’s sides and Zayn shifts, just enough, to dig the phone out of his pocket (keeps his other hand splayed out across Niall’s stomach). 

He glances at the caller ID, tilts his head up when he answers, and Niall takes advantage of the view, kisses along the line of his neck while Zayn says, voice low and scratchy,

“Liam?”

“ _Hey_...” 

Niall curls a finger into a belt loop that isn’t his.

“ _Are you busy?_ "

"Um." Niall growls and licks his Adam’s apple, smiling when Zayn snorts quietly. “Kind of, yeah."

Niall laughs on an exhale, tilts his head and nips at Zayn's jaw.

" _You’re - I’m sorry, I - I forgot. Nevermind_ ," Liam says, but he sounds off.

“Are you okay?"

There's silence on the other line, and then a quiet, shaky breath. Zayn blinks a few times to stop his head from swimming. "Liam, what's wrong?"

Niall picks his head up at that, and his eyes are bloodshot and half-lidded but he still manages to look concerned.

" _Nevermind_ ," Liam says again. " _You're busy - you’re_ not-date thing _, God, I’m sorry_ -"

"Liam," Zayn interrupts him. "Tell me."

" _I just - I can talk later_."

“Liam, if you don’t tell me I’m going to worry and come over anyway,” Zayn tells him, and Niall’s gnawing on a thumbnail, looking anxious. He frowns and makes a gesture like Zayn should just go. “What is it? It’s not - your family, or - ?”

“ _No, God, no_ ,” Liam says quickly. " _Not that, no, they're - everyone's okay, it's_."

He pauses, and Niall comes in close to listen just as Liam says, " _I think - Danielle and I broke up_?”

“ _Liam_.”

“ _I’m sorry_ ,” Liam says again. “ _I know it’s - if I’d_ remembered _, I wouldn’t have called, but I - I don’t know what to do and_ -”

“Liam, shut up, I’m coming over,” Zayn says, and there’s another pause, and then, so quiet Zayn almost doesn’t hear it, 

“ _Thank you_.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen, okay?”

“ _Okay_.”

“Stay there,” Zayn tells him. “And don’t - don’t do anything, okay? Just stay there.”

“ _Yeah_ ,” he says, and Zayn says goodbye, that he’ll get there quick, and hangs up. 

He looks at Niall, palms Niall's hip, and Niall says, "C’mon. I’ll sign you out."

*

Once they’re out of the building, Zayn says, “Niall,” but he’s already shaking his head, tugging at lapel of Zayn’s jacket.

“It’s fine, man.”

Zayn studies him for a moment and he doesn't seem bothered and it's - it's just Niall, really, to look more worried for Liam than anything else. "I'll come back tonight," Zayn tells him.

"Don’t. Take your time."

Zayn knows he has to go - needs to go - but he can't make his feet move just yet. He kisses Niall's cheek.

"I'll text you," he says instead, and Niall nods at that.

"Yeah. And let me know if he's okay, too."

"I will." 

He hugs Niall, and Niall runs a hand down his back, presses his face into the crook of Zayn's neck. Zayn gets a hand on Niall’s jaw as he pulls away, and kisses him, only once. 

“I have to leave,” he says, and doesn’t.

Niall’s mouth lifts at one end, like he knows Zayn’s not going to leave without him saying something. 

“It’s fine,” he says again. 

“You’re _sure_?” Zayn says, and Niall grins at that.

“Yeah. We’ll finish this later,” he says, and it sounds like a promise.

*

The door’s unlocked when Zayn gets to their floor, and he can see Liam sitting on the sofa when he steps inside. He’s staring blankly at the coffee table, hands clenched together in his lap, but the sound of the door clicking shut snaps him out of thoughts. He blinks a few times, looks up.

Zayn hangs up his jacket, and when he looks at Liam, he gives Zayn the saddest smile he’s ever seen and then - quick - his features crumple and he turns his face away, spreads his thumb and forefinger over his eyes, pushes in like that’ll stop the tears from coming out. He barely makes it through his first, shaky inhale before Zayn rushes the rest of the way, sinks down, and hugs him.

It’s quiet, though, like maybe he’s already cried about it enough tonight, and he's _tired_. After a minute or two, he sits there, head buried at Zayn’s shoulder, sniffling occasionally.

“What happened?” Zayn says, rubbing his back.

Liam is heavy against him, and the shoulder of Zayn’s shirt is wet. He tells Zayn, “I got into the study abroad program next year.”

“What - that’s great, Liam,” he says, and Liam pulls away, wipes at his eyes. 

“Danielle got a job offer. Out of state.”

“Right.”

“And... and we were - she was over, and we were talking about it and it’s just. It’s going to be really hard, because she’s taking it, and she leaves at the end of June, and I’d leave in September and it - we were trying to figure out how it’d work, you know, and she just looked so - sad all of a sudden, like she’d been _waiting_ for this to happen and I -”

He stops, and laughs, “You ever just know before something happens that it’s not gonna work?”

Zayn wipes Liam's cheeks with the edge of his shirt. “Yeah, I’ve done that once or twice.”

“It just ended. I guess we figured do it now before we have to do it later and it hurts even more. Like -”

“Ripping the bandage off before you get the wound?” 

“Yeah,” Liam sniffs, and squeezes his eyes shut. “I love her, and I know she loves me, but I don’t - I don’t want us to feel like we _have_ to make it work. I don’t want us to be burdens for each other.”

He leans into Zayn, adds, “I’m sorry I called, interrupted whatever - whatever you were doing. I really wanted you to be here. I don't know. I'm sorry.”

"Stop it, you know I'll be here when you need me," Zayn fluffs up his hair, smiling gently. “And you’ll be alright.”

“I’m - I’m just tired,” Liam sighs, and says the next part softly: "We agreed to see what happens, to not put any kind of requirements on it, but I’m - I don’t know if she’ll want to wait for me.”

“But you’ll wait for her?”

“I think so,” Liam says. “I want to.”

“Maybe that’s enough.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, I don’t know, I think she loves you too much to give you up, so maybe it’ll all work out in the end. You'll see.”

Liam’s watching him now, and Zayn squeezes his shoulder. “I’m gonna get you some water, okay?"

He’s got the tap running, and he doesn’t realize Liam’s followed him into the kitchen until he turns with the glass in hand and Liam’s right behind him. 

“Here,” Zayn hands him the glass. Liam stares at it in his hand for a moment before stepping around and putting it back on the counter. 

“We - before all that happened, we were talking about something else tonight.”

“Yeah, what?”

"Something about - about you." Liam tilts his head, like he’s not sure if he can say what he wants. "I - Zayn, do you love me?"

Zayn knits his eyebrows together. "What - of course I love you."

Liam shakes his head. "No - I don't. I mean. In - um. Are you in... love with me?"

"I," Zayn pauses, and the silence goes on too long. He tilts his head in question. "Why?"

"Just - Danielle said." He looks down at his feet and he blurts out, "she said maybe you were in love with me. She wasn't - she wasn't angry about it, or anything. Or jealous. I think it was just - I think she just thought I should know?"

He looks curious now. "So. Are you?"

Zayn opens his mouth, closes it. 

He’s not quite sure how this is actually his life.

He manages a, "Liam..." and Liam buries his face in his hands, mumbles, "Oh, God, you _are_ -"

"Liam - "

"I'm - this is the worst fucking _night_ \- am I stupid? I didn't - I didn't _know_ -"

" _Liam_ ," Zayn says again, firm, and Liam stops babbling long enough for Zayn to yank him into a hug.

Zayn says, "It wouldn't have changed anything, if you had." 

Liam makes an aborted sound, pulls him closer. Zayn tells him, “I - you’re my best friend. You’ll always be my best friend. That’s - that’s all I need. It just took me awhile to get that, that’s all.”

Liam stares at him a long, unguarded moment, says fierce and determined and a little bittersweet, too, "If - if I could've, I would. I love you so much, Zayn, and I wish it was in the way you wanted back then. And I -”

He backs away so he can cup Zayn’s face and he says, completely and absolutely certain, “No one else but you could _ever_ make me wish that."

And then he nods once, deciding something, and he moves a hand to the back of Zayn's neck, draws him in until their foreheads rest together. He hesitates, and then kisses Zayn with dry, chapped lips and - it's nothing. 

It _is_ , but it isn't. 

The intent behind it would've fucking _killed_ Zayn last year, because Liam kisses him like it's an apology - _I'm sorry it couldn't be more_ \- and Zayn remembers being seventeen and finding happiness in a trip to a comic book store. Eighteen, and naïvely in love with the idea of loving his best friend. Nineteen, and standing in the cold with a hitch in his chest because of a botched first kiss, and now

Now he's twenty, and he thinks maybe he's finally starting to get how life works. Because it’s nice, to have this feel like closure instead of something awful. 

It’s nice to be rid of the only real secret they've ever had between them.

Liam is frowning when he pulls away. “I’m so -”

“Stop apologizing for something you’ve never had to be sorry for,” Zayn says, and hugs him. “It’s okay. I thought - for a long time, I thought it _wouldn't_ be okay, but it is. I thought I wouldn't get over you.”

“But you did?" Liam says with a murmur. "Because Danielle, she - that’s why she’s been really _for_ you and,” he falters, "you and Niall. She said she thought-”

He chews on his lip, and Zayn says, “What?"

Liam sighs. “She said she thought you needed him. That he’d be good for you, because you deserved someone who could make you happy.”

“Danielle is,” Zayn shakes his head and laughs. “Danielle is very perceptive.”

“You _like_ Niall,” Liam says, and it’s not really a question, but Zayn answers anyway.

“Yeah. I mean - I’m pretty sure he knows that, but. Yeah.”

“Good,” he says, and he’s still got a hand on Zayn’s neck, so he grips it gently. He frowns, sounds _almost_ like himself when he asks, teasing, 

“Okay, but you’re actually gonna _tell him_ , right?”

Zayn laughs again, and snatches Liam up in a bear hug this time. He digs his chin into Liam’s shoulder. “Yeah, I am.”

*

It takes a while, but Liam finally falls asleep sometime around one. He’s in his bed, on top of the covers - on top of Zayn - and once Zayn’s sure he won’t wake up, he slides out from underneath him.

Liam mumbles something, quiet and sleepy, and Zayn grabs an extra blanket and tucks it around him. He’s shutting Liam’s door shut behind him and dialing his phone at the same time, and it only takes a couple rings for Niall to pick up.

“ _Hey, how is it_?”

“Alright. He’s sleeping.” Zayn sits down against the wall, presses his phone against his ear. “He’s just sad. Also - he kissed me?”

There's a pause on the other line and then Niall says, " _Right_." 

"I mean - I want to tell you because I’m just,” Zayn lets his head fall back and thumps it on the wall behind him. “I’m tired of keeping things in, or not saying shit I should, and I’m not gonna ruin this. Um. Us. Before it starts. So, yeah. He kissed me. Because he’s Liam, and that’s his way of saying sorry, I guess.”

“ _Does sound like Liam_ ,” Niall says, and Zayn needs to be honest about this, from the get go. He picks at a frayed edge on his jeans. “I wanted him to kiss me since I was seventeen, but...”

“ _But_?”

"He kissed me," Zayn repeats, "and - and all I was thinking was that the only person I want to kiss back is _you_."

Niall laughs, but it trails off and he says, careful, " _I wouldn't care. You know, if you didn't - if you still loved him. It's not easy to switch that sort of thing on and off_."

"Mm," Zayn hums, "I used to think it wasn’t but - I think it can be now, if you find the right person. ...Come over tomorrow. Please."

Niall murmurs, " _Alright_."

"Yeah?"

" _Okay_."

Neither of them says anything and then Zayn thinks, _just go for it_ : 

"I like you. I haven't told you that yet but I - I like you. A lot."

Niall shifts across the line, and Zayn thinks he might be smiling when he says, “ _It’s late - I have class in the morning_."

"Right, sleep," Zayn's nodding, "but - tomorrow?"

" _Yeah. I can stop by after nine_?"

Zayn rests his forehead against his knees. "Can't wait."

" _Me, too_ ," Niall says, and he means it. Zayn's thumb hovers over the END button before Niall says, " _hey, Zayn, wait_."

"What?"

" _I like you, too_ ," he says, effortless, and Zayn lets out a laugh against his knees. " _I just - I wanted you to know. You know, if the attempt to cook you shitty dinner wasn't indication enough_."

"I'll see you," Zayn says with a grin.

“ _See ya - oh, by the way_?” 

“What?”

“ _Harry has the biggest shit-eating grin on his face right now_.”

“He’s _there_?”

“ _The wooing objective was always meant to change_!” Harry shouts, and Niall’s snorting into the phone and says, “ _Are you going to explain what that means_?”

“Tomorrow,” Zayn promises.

“ _Yeah, alright_ ,” Niall’s definitely smiling now. “ _Tomorrow_.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall says, curious, “You think you would've been happy with him, if you two ever had the chance?”
> 
> “I don’t know,” Zayn tells him, and then, because he’s nothing if not realistic: “Probably. But maybe - you know, maybe there’s a universe where he loved me back, but. I kind of prefer this one, with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah so these notes might get a bit out of hand but: 
> 
> holy shit. i seriously in a million, bajillion years did not expect this to get the... attention that it did. like, it blew my mind every time i posted a new part just - the fact that you all enjoyed reading it is so, so awesome. so thanks for that.
> 
> as for the actual fic - glad you stuck it out with me, if you did. i was so hesitant when i first posted this to immediately tag it as ziall when i knew (and it was always planned this way) that it'd be the Slowest Of Slow Burns, but it also felt hugely inaccurate to tag it as zayn/liam and sort of wash my hands of it. anyway, i suppose this part is making up for all the ziall parts you were maybe craving from the start, haha
> 
> thanks so much to every single friend i ever showed a snippet of this to - especially julia and molly, who gave me the idea in the first place way back last summer. i can't thank you ALL enough! :)

*

Liam is rushing to leave just as Niall knocks on their door the next night. Zayn pops his head out from the entryway to the kitchen and once Liam has the door open wide enough, Niall jumps on him. 

"I love you, don't be sad about Dani," he mumbles.

Liam pats his back. "I love you, too, Niall," is all he says, and Niall kisses his cheek before releasing him. 

"What're you doing tonight? Louis said he’s not gonna let you mope."

"He won't tell me?" Liam doesn't look particularly disturbed by the idea of not knowing what Louis has in store for him. “It should be distracting, at least.”

He nudges Niall in Zayn's direction. "I'll probably sleep over Harry's, so," he gives them a half smile. “Have fun.”

He waves at Zayn, squeezes Niall's shoulder, and he's gone. Niall shuts the door behind him, adjusts the bag he's got strapped over his shoulders, and sticks his hands in his pockets. "Hello," he says, and Zayn smiles.

"Hey."

Niall steps into the kitchen, drops his bag down by the table. "Are y'making something?"

"No - well. Liam was frowning at the wall earlier, so we baked a cake."

Zayn gestures to it on the table. It's lopsided and they ran out of icing halfway through, but Niall looks at it like it’s the best thing he's ever seen. "Maybe I'll have a piece later."

"Yeah," Zayn sticks his hands under his armpits, shoulders hunched up to his ears. "So, um. Hi."

"We did this already," Niall says, grinning, and Zayn laughs and drops his hands to rest a hip against the table.

"Yeah, sorry, I - I'm not sure how to do this normally?"

"Not really different from what we’ve been doing."

"No, but now there's - stuff. Involved."

“Stuff,” Niall repeats with a smile, and steps closer. “Stuff like mutual attraction stuff?”

"Very mutual," Zayn says, and Niall rests a hand over his on the table. 

”C’mon,” he tugs Zayn over to the sofa to sit down and leans against his side. “So I’m gonna talk now, if that’s okay?”

Zayn smiles into his hair. “That's okay.”

“Yeah, so - the first time I kissed you after Harry’s party -”

“I kissed _you_ -”

"You know what I _mean_. That wasn’t - I hadn't liked you. It was just that I wanted you to... forget. I don’t know. You looked really sad.”

“I’m glad my friends think helping each other out means sticking their tongues in each other’s mouths,” Zayn says, and Niall laughs.

“We try,” he says. “Plus, it wasn’t exactly without ulterior motive.”

“What d’you mean?” 

“Well, you’re - you,” Niall says with another laugh. “Zayn, I think someone finding you objectively unattractive is against the laws of nature or something. I got to hook up with someone hot, who also happened to be one of my best friends. And I didn’t - I couldn’t really see the negative, aside from Liam. Anyway, I thought it wasn’t a big deal but then I sort of... couldn’t stop thinking about it? And then you - you gave me your _gloves_ ,” he sighs tiredly.

Zayn laughs. “Are you - Niall, are you talking about that party before you got sick?”

“I mean - it was dumb, I guess. But you were being so _thoughtful_ and you held my hand and I -”

“You felt all funny down there,” Zayn says seriously, nodding, and Niall rolls his eyes. 

“Something like that.”

He studies Zayn, shrugging, a bit helpless. “It was different after that. It was just this casual thing and then - and then I thought it was something I could get used to and it, I don’t know, it freaked me out. And I never get weird like that.”

“You _were_ avoiding me,” Zayn says, and Niall nods. 

“I wanted to get my head around it, first.”

“Didn’t take you that long.”

“Like I said,” Niall shrugs. “I’m not really that complicated.”

Zayn crooks an index finger under Niall’s chin, taps his thumb against Niall’s bottom lip. Niall purses his lips against it, grins and says, “Then I - I was all stuffy and feverish and you slept in my bed and I couldn’t even appreciate it because I was so out of it but I woke up and you were _there_ still, and I don’t know, I just went _fuck it_ , and. Well, you know the rest.”

“I do, it was nice. Made me sick, too, but it was nice.”

“After that, being around you was less like, ‘I wanna smoke with him while we play Harry’s zombie game' and more ‘I really want to kiss his stupid face a lot’ and it was _all I wanted to do_ and - you let me.”

Niall rests his head against the sofa. “Maybe it didn't work out how you thought it would, but it did work out.”

“Hey,” Zayn tugs on Niall’s bracelet. “I know this stuff with Liam’s all...”

He trails off, unsure of what to say, exactly. Niall asks curiously, “You think you would've been happy with him, if you two ever had the chance?”

“I don’t know,” Zayn tells him, and then, because he’s nothing if not realistic: “Probably. But -”

He pokes Niall’s cheek until Niall’s looking at him again, and Zayn says:

“Maybe - you know, maybe there’s a universe where he loved me back, but. I kind of prefer this one, with you.”

Niall just stares, and then he nods and says, “Okay. Yeah.”

"Yeah?”

"Yeah, I'm gonna kiss you now."

Zayn gets as far as a smile and an _alright -_ before Niall _does_. He gets his mouth on Zayn, pushes him onto the sofa with a hand on his chest, follows the line of his body down. Zayn laughs and cups his jaw and he thinks, yeah, Niall had the right idea, before - he can really, _really_ get used to this.

“I wanna be better about things like this,” Zayn says, already breathless. He probably sounds ridiculous, but he keeps on anyway: “Like, I wanna be with you, and be happy and I -”

God, he has no idea what he’s _doing_ -

“- I just - I wanna make you smile. Like, all the time.” Niall stills above him. Zayn runs his hands up Niall’s side, squeezing gently. “Is that okay?”

Niall’s cheeks are _burning_ , the flush spreading all the way out to his ears, and Zayn wants to know what else besides earnestness will make his skin pink up like this. “Yeah, Zayn,” he dips his head, noses along Zayn’s neck affectionately. “I -”

He stops then, laughs, and Zayn says tucks his hand under Niall’s shirt, asks, “What?”

“Nothing,” Niall says, chuckling still. “I’ll save it for later, I think.”

*

Somehow, they make it off the sofa. They manage to stumble into Zayn's bedroom with Zayn's hands down Niall's back pockets. He’s laughing into Niall’s mouth when he remembers something and says, “Wait, hold on,” and tilts his head back so he can look at Niall. “Why have you - ?"

“Zayn, _seriously_ ,” Niall says, exasperated. 

Zayn presses him against the wall opposite his bed. “Sorry, I -”

“Stop talking,” Niall tugs on his shirt. “Please, for the love of God, stop talking -”

“But I want to know - why you,” Niall’s knuckles brush the inseam of Zayn’s jeans and Zayn forgets how to speak. "Uh -"

“Why what? Why?” Niall's hand come to a rest at his hips, _finally_. “What? Sorry, what?”

“Why’d you always stop us?”

Niall's face is blank, uncomprehending and flushed, mouth open and a little puffy and _wet_. He blinks and shakes his head. “What?”

“We never,” Zayn kisses him again, he can’t help it, “we never - you always -”

“Oh.” Niall twists Zayn’s shirt up now at the small of his back, the fabric stretching tight, like he can’t be fucked to stand still long enough to explain without doing _something_. “I thought you would have a - I don't know, like a crisis of faith," he says against Zayn’s mouth. 

"Except it had to do with sex so like, crisis of dick, I guess. You'd be all mixed up because I wasn't Liam," he tugs Zayn's shirt over his head, tosses it in the general direction of _not here_ but he pulls away then, flushed and out of breath and so, so honest:

"I didn't want you to regret it. I mean, I'm pretty chill, but that would have actually hurt."

There’s a lull, and Niall’s got a hand resting along Zayn’s ribs when Zayn says, "I wouldn't now."

Niall digs his fingers in. "No?"

Zayn shakes his head, ghosts his hands over Niall's shoulders, grips his elbows. He kisses the pulse point at Niall's neck, and Niall shivers.

"I want you," Zayn tells him.

“Thank fuck,” Niall says. “I swear to God, at one point I thought my balls would actually turn blue.”

"Such a romantic declaration." Zayn kisses him again. "My heart bleeds."

Niall smiles. He stands on his tiptoes, trying to gain a height advantage, maybe. Zayn slides his hands down and squeezes the backs of Niall’s thighs before lifting. Niall goes easily enough, and a laugh is forced out of his chest when his back hits the wall behind him. 

“S'like those - piggyback rides you guys sometimes give me,” Niall says, winded, a hand curling into Zayn’s hair and yanking it so his throat’s bared. “Except hotter.”

“Hotter,” Zayn presses him hard against the wall, gets a hand at the small of his back, underneath his tank. “Which means it was already a little hot to begin with?”

Niall's laugh fractures into a sigh as Zayn sucks on his neck. He says, "Maybe."

Zayn walks them backwards towards his bed, Niall's legs still wrapped around his waist. His knees hit the edge and he falls onto it. Niall drops down to Zayn’s knees and Zayn tugs him down by his tank, scoots up the bed and flips them over so Niall's pinned beneath. 

"See," Zayn says, and makes a mental note to (repeatedly) thank Niall for his tendency to wear loose jeans - there's another benefit other than not having to readjust your dick every five minutes, apparently, that mostly includes Niall having ample room to spread his legs apart so Zayn can fit in between and it’s so much better this way, honestly, Zayn doesn’t even care that they’re still clothed, doesn't even care that Niall's _snapback_ has managed to stay on, for fuck's sake.

"See what?" Niall says, and he's digging blunt fingernails into the small of Zayn’s back.

Zayn rolls his hips, catches Niall's mouth with his own, and says, "This is so much better than piggyback rides."

*

Later, when they're curled up under the covers in Zayn's bed and Niall's body is all heavy and relaxed with near-sleep, Zayn twirls a short strand of blond-brown hair around a finger and says, before he can talk himself out of it, “When me an’ Liam were younger, I had this - this idea in my head - this like, puzzle, or something. Of how things were. And, y’know, there’s only certain pieces that’ll fit in it. And I thought that’s how it’d always be, but then I got here -”

He brushes his fingertips across Niall’s shoulder. 

“I got here, and it changed. Some of the pieces are the same, yeah, but they just fit a little bit differently now. To make room for the new ones.”

”Zayn,” Niall says with a sleepy laugh. “Zayn, are you calling me a _puzzle piece_?"

"No, shut up," Zayn mumbles, and Niall smiles, and bites his chest. 

"Am I a good piece at least? Or am I like, a section of a cloud?"

"Forget I said anything," Zayn pleads, but he's smiling, too.

"You should've majored in creative writing," Niall says, his hand sweeping along Zayn’s side. "Start an underground slam poetry club or something. I'll wear a beret and snap my fingers when you're done."

"Fuck you," Zayn laughs, but it comes out soft and affectionate and completely useless as a curse.

"Mm,” Niall’s smiling, snuffling obnoxiously into Zayn's neck, pushing into his space. “Alright. If you insist."

*

(Zayn says into the dark, “You’re a corner piece," and there’s a quiet exhale, and a murmured _am I_.

"Yeah. You're like, solid. And I'm sure about you and where you fit."

"This is cute, so I'm not going to make fun of you or go for the obvious joke about sliding into places easily," Niall tells him, and Zayn pinches his side.

"I'm serious," Zayn says, smiling.

Niall shifts up, a hand on Zayn’s chest, and kisses him. He flops back down tiredly, tucks himself up against Zayn once more.

"Yeah," he traces over the inked heart on Zayn's hip. "I know.")

*

Niall tells him he’s going to Ireland for the summer, and Zayn, at first, wants to worry about what’ll happen, wants to stay something inexplicably stupid like _don’t go it won’t work if you’re gone_ but then he stops himself because -

They’ll be fine. They will.

And in the grand scheme of things, being away from each other for one summer won’t be very much time at all.

He’s not worried, but he _also_ doesn’t want to say goodbye so soon. He can feel the date creeping up on him and then it’s May, and Zayn is watching Niall get ready to go out for the night when he says, “So - how long are you gonna be gone again?”

(Zayn has the dates set up on his phone as reminders, has circled them a dozen times over in five different colors in the calendar sitting on his desk in his bedroom.)

Niall smiles at him, because Niall has seen all of Zayn's calendars, and he tugs a shirt over his head. “Two and a half months. Family thing,” he reminds Zayn, even though they’ve talked about it enough times already. “We do it every other summer.”

He ruffles his hair, plops a snapback on it and steps closer to his bed, where Zayn’s sitting up on his elbows, feet crossed at the ankles. 

“I know it’s far,” he says, and Zayn shrugs.

“It’s like, 3000 miles,” Zayn says, and there’s a beat of silence before Niall’s laughing. 

“Shut up,” Zayn says with a smile. “I looked it up, so what.”

“Mhm,” is all Niall tells him, and Zayn sighs.

“I mean, I’m just saying, it’s _far_ but it’s not like, _Mars_ or anything. It’s not impossible.”

“Not impossible,” Niall repeats, “no.”

He’s at the edge of his bed now, and he leans over on his forearms, kisses Zayn once before saying, “Is this like that episode of _Gilmore Girls_?”

“I,” Zayn holds him there with a hand on his neck, “ _what_?”

“I’m the girl here, going to Harvard, right? And you’re the brooding boyfriend who pretends he doesn’t know what Google Maps is.”

“I think she went to Yale?” Zayn says, and Niall’s climbing up onto his bed and sitting astride Zayn’s hips when Zayn adds: 

“Boyfriend?”

Niall picks at Zayn's shirt. “Whatever you want. I know we haven’t talked about it yet, but I'm cool with that, if you are. I'm cool if you - if you wanna see other people over the summer, too. Like, you don’t need my permission, but.”

He pauses and leans down, slipping a hand under Zayn’s shirt. He grins, conspiratorial. “Maybe just. Maybe don’t make anyone else pasta.”

“I don’t want to make anyone else pasta,” Zayn says softly. “I - the whole summer. No pasta at all.”

“This is wonderful news,” Niall rocks against him as he speaks and they really shouldn’t, they’re supposed meet everyone at the bar in like, fifteen minutes. “I’ll have to put it on my travel blog. I’ve already got a title: Boyfriend Says He’s Not Gonna Make Anyone But Me Pasta; World Rejoices.”

They’re being silly, but Zayn tells him on a shaky breath, “You, either?”

“My pasta will remain uncooked,” Niall swears.

Zayn stage-whispers, “Is pasta a euphemism?”

Niall laughs, loud and happy, and it’s the best thing Zayn’s heard all day. “I’d be disappointed if it wasn’t,” he says.

Zayn runs a hand up his thigh. “You _just_ got out of the shower; we’re going to be late.”

Niall bites his cheek, snaps open the top button his jeans.

“Like you care.”

*

“I can’t believe you’ll be gone the whole summer,” Harry says, and Liam pushes at the wrinkle between his eyes with a thumb, muttering, _your face is going to stay like that_.

“I don't know, it’s tradition,” Niall says. There’s a knock at the door - probably the pizza they ordered an hour ago - and Niall gets up to answer it.

Louis looks to Zayn, scoots his chair into the kitchen table. “But everything’s good?”

Zayn watches Niall pay the delivery boy. “Yeah. We’re good.”

Niall sets the pizza box in the middle of the table, drops a kiss to the top of Zayn’s head before he sits back down and Zayn smiles. “Really good.”

Liam gets up from the table and Harry’s pouting as he grabs a slice of pizza. “Still sucks. You’re leaving in a few weeks and then Liam’s going at the end of summer and we won’t even get to hang out, the five of us.”

“Liam,” Louis calls out. “Liam, why are you grabbing plates? It’s _pizza_ , put them back.”

Liam rolls his eyes, but leaves them on the counter anyway before sitting down again.

“My brother always throws a party before school starts,” Niall says. “I think it’s right before Liam’ll leave, too. We can just go out with a bang.”

“Orgy,” Louis drawls, and Zayn kicks him from underneath the table.

“Ow,” Louis glares at him, and angrily takes a bite of his pizza. “God, _sorry_ , I forgot you and Niall are all gross and _boyfriendly_ now. If orgies are out, can you at least make me a pasta dish when he’s gone? Maybe one of us will actually get to have more than a few bites for once.”

Niall says, “No,” and Zayn laughs. 

“We already agreed - no pasta the whole summer.”

“I _weep_ ,” Louis says. 

Liam sits up. “It’s like pastanogamy.”

“Liam, _what_ ,” Harry asks, laughing as he pulls a pepperoni off his slice. 

“Pasta monogamy,” Liam explains, because _of course_ and Harry snorts but Louis’ shaking his head. 

"No, he’s right.” He points at Niall and Zayn. “You two have a very unhealthy obsession with Zayn’s pasta. I'm surprised you haven't brought it into the bedroom yet."

There's a long, uncomfortable silence. Louis says, "Well," and takes a sip of his drink. "I'm torn between asking what type of pasta you used and how that even works."

"We didn't - Niall was trying to reenact that scene from _Lady and the Tramp_. It was cute," Zayn says.

Liam places his pizza on the table to take a sip of his Coke.

"Ah," Louis nods, "he nudged your meatball with his nose."

Niall grins and flicks his tongue out at Louis. "Technically, we didn't even make it past the table, so I don't think it counts as bedroom... stuff."

Liam's hand halts with his slice halfway to his mouth and he asks, hesitant like he's afraid of the answer, "...This table?"

Niall goes red at that and Liam drops his slice and says, "Oh, my God."

He pushes his chair away to stand, trudges towards the front room and tips himself over the back of the sofa.

Louis is cackling and Zayn says weakly, "I cleaned it after?"

"Zayn, that is not even the _point_ ," Liam moans, voice muffled from where he's buried his head in between sofa cushions.

"And to think," Harry says slowly, spreading his hands over the table and peering down at it like it holds the secrets of the universe, "the whole time I was trying to get Liam to blow me _under_ it, when really the answer was _on top_ all along."

Niall laughs with a mouthful of food and Louis clutches his stomach and falls out of his seat.

“That’s it,” Liam says, "I'm divorcing myself from this group. I quit. I _quit_."

*

Niall walks his fingers across Zayn’s forearm, traces over the outline of the mic. “Did it hurt?”

He trails his thumb over the inside of Zayn’s wrist; it tickles, and Zayn’s hand twitches, but he doesn’t move away. He shakes his head, mussing his hair against the pillows. Niall stretches out next to him, holds up the joint in his free hand to Zayn’s mouth.

Zayn inhales, says _nah_ and Niall shoots him a disbelieving look. Zayn laughs and the smoke billows out of his mouth.

“A little,” he admits sheepishly, and Niall grins.

“Right. What about this one?” Niall’s fingers slip up from Zayn’s wrist to his collarbone. Zayn dips his chin down to knock Niall’s hand out of the way and chuckles again.

“Yeah, _Jesus_ , will you stop, that -”

He lets out a short breath when Niall ducks his body down and tugs roughly at the waistband of Zayn's jeans. Niall pauses just long enough to take a hit - a three count - and then he's peering down and pressing a thumb into the tattoos at Zayn’s hipbone.

“And these?” he says in a tight voice, before he begins to blow smoke rings at one. Zayn flicks him in the temple and Niall actually does laugh at that and pull himself up to sit against the wall.

Zayn hitches his jeans into place again, stuffs a Pringle from the cannister next to him in his mouth. “What’s with the twenty-one questions?”

“Dunno,” the mattress squeaks underneath Niall as he leans over Zayn to drop the roach into the pile he keeps on his bedside table. “Thinkin’ about getting one.”

“Yeah? What?” he nudges Niall. “My face, yeah? Like, on your chest or something?”

“Surrounded by hearts,” Niall nods seriously, coughs into his hand, “with arrows through ‘em.”

*

He doesn’t get Zayn’s face - a shame, Louis says - but they do make it a special day, the five of them. It’s four weeks until the end of the semester, five until Niall leaves, and Harry says they should make it count, suggests a tattoo for all of them, almost half-hearted, like he’s not really expecting them to agree. 

They do, of course.

They get them one by one, and Zayn winces more than once when the needle buzzes across the bone on his ankle, but when it’s done and all wiped away, and they’re in the front room waiting, Harry says, “See, now it doesn’t really matter how far apart any of us are.”

He’s got Liam perched on a knee and Louis doodling on the inside of his arm from the seat next to him with a permanent marker and Niall tells him, “Screws keep things together, don’t they?”

“Screws are in houses, too,” Liam says.

Harry laughs, and Louis drops his hand as Harry draws a stick house in the air with his fingers: his arms raised up, index fingers pointed towards each other and spreading out far enough that he gets all five of them in it when his fingers come together again at the bottom. “Yeah, home,” he grins. “Sounds about right.”

“Sap,” Louis says, but he’s smiling, too. 

*

On the way out back towards the car, Zayn and Niall trail behind the other three, watching as Harry jumps onto Louis’ back. He’s trying to convince Liam to jump on _his_ back when Niall says, “I’m glad we did this - the five of us. Before we all go in different directions for the next few months, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Zayn says. He knocks his hand against Niall’s wrist and Niall sucks in a breath and jerks it away. 

“Shit, sorry,” Zayn says, forgetting the screw inked there, and Niall turns his head to watch Zayn move behind him on the sidewalk to his other side.

Niall starts to say, “What’re you -?” and then falls silent when Zayn links their fingers together. 

“Oh,” he laughs, and Zayn smiles at him, and swings their hands exaggeratedly between them.

“Yeah, ‘oh.’”

“I’m not a fucking pack mule!” Louis shouts and he staggers a few more steps before he collapses into the grass next to the sidewalk with a giggling Harry and Liam on top of him. 

“Mush, doggy!” Liam says, and Harry howls.

*

Niall gives Zayn his bracelet two weeks before he leaves.

It’s a Sunday. He’s been at Zayn’s the whole weekend. They’re curled up on the sofa half-watching the end credits of a movie because they’re both too lazy to get up, half-talking about what Niall’s going to do on vacation (drink, probably help out his family there to make a bit of cash on the side) and what Zayn’s going to do here (help Liam Not Freak Out about leaving the country, visit his own family for a few weeks). 

Zayn asks if he can drop Niall off at the airport, since Niall has to take a plane to meet up with his family in a completely different state, and _then_ board another plane to Ireland a day later. Niall laughs and says, “Sort of just assumed you were all going to anyway.”

Zayn laughs, too, and doesn't say much else. After a bit, Niall says elbows him in the side. “Hey,” he says quietly, sitting up. Zayn - at first - thinks Niall’s frowning down into his lap, and Zayn’s about to ask what’s wrong when he sees Niall’s just tugging at the ends of his bracelet to loosen it.

Once he slides it off, he holds a hand out. 

“Gimme your wrist,” he says, and Zayn almost - _almost_ \- wants to laugh, but doesn’t. 

He extends a hand out and Niall slips the bracelet on, tightens the cords at the end until it sits snug against Zayn’s wrist. Zayn tries not to focus on the fact that Niall never takes off his bracelet. Ever. Zayn’s pretty sure he showers with it on, and Zayn looked it up once and it is _not cheap_.

“Is... is this like a going away present?”

Niall tightens the clasp of it, and then sags into Zayn while they sit there on the sofa, cheek mashed against Zayn’s shoulder. “Maybe, yeah,” he answers. There’s a quiet laugh and: “Maybe it's a ‘I’m kind of half in love with you’ present, too?”

“Oh.” Zayn shifts. “Um. Yeah?”

Niall just bites his shoulder through his shirt. He pushes off the sofa with a hand on Zayn’s knee. “I bought you a new copy of _The Avengers_ , since you scratched yours. Wanna watch it?”

“I, uh,” Zayn clears his throat. “Sure.”

Niall digs into the backpack slung onto a hook by the door, plucks the DVD case out and puts the movie into the player. He heads back to Zayn, picks up the remote along the way, and flops down across his lap. Zayn reaches out automatically to steady him, squeezes his waist for good measure and says, “So - kind of half...?”

“Three-quarters, if I’m being honest,” Niall tells him without looking at him, a smile picking up at the ends of his mouth as he presses the title menu button.

“Cool," Zayn says, and then scrunches his nose up and laughs when Niall pulls a mocking face.

“‘Cool,’ he says,” Niall shakes his head. “You choose to respond with _cool_.”

“I mean,” Zayn’s trying to fluff up Niall’s hair from where it’s gone flat. “Me, too. I - three-quarters. Yeah, definitely me.”

Niall grins at him, and his braces glint from the glare of the television screen.

“Better,” he says.

He leans back into Zayn then. They’ll be an ocean away from each other for an entire summer and it’s gonna suck but then Niall tucks his head under Zayn’s chin, runs his fingers over his - Zayn’s - bracelet, and Zayn smiles, and thinks they’ll be okay.

*

Zayn fiddles with the bracelet when he’s in one of his last classes that Monday. (It’s mostly bullshit, even the professor knows it - their final project’s already been handed in, but she wants to keep them there for one final assessment.) He turns the ball clasp over and over until he notices scratches on the back, and he holds his hand out where the light can hit it. When he looks closer, he can see they aren’t scratches at all - they’re tiny letters, etched in by hand, it looks like.

An H, two L’s. And a Z.

Zayn tightens the bracelet again and sits in his seat for the rest of the class with the most ludicrous smile on his face. He thinks if he concentrates hard enough he can feel the clasp rest against the pulse point on his wrist, like it’s linked right up to his heart. 

(He figures it probably is, now.)

Niall’s in between exams when Zayn gets out, so the moment he’s free he scrolls down to Niall in his contacts and hits send. He picks up on the first ring, and Zayn asks, “Three-quarters?”

“ _Three-quarters_ ,” Niall confirms, quiet like it’s a secret.

And Zayn - 

Zayn holds his breath and says, “I love you.”

Niall laughs.

“ _Well, it’s like a whole number, now_ ,” he says.

*

Two days before the end of the semester, Zayn grabs one of his etching tools when he gets back from classes that night, scratches an N onto the ball clasp of the bracelet. He takes a photo after, sends it to Niall. 

He grabs his keys, and he’s locking the door behind him when Niall responds with multiple texts in quick succession:

_Hahahaha love it!!!_

_(Love you!!!)_

_Come over , Harry’s gone til ten ;)_

Zayn laughs, hurries down the stairs and out the front door, texts back, _Already on my way babe :D_

*

They all go out the Friday before Niall has to get on a plane. Somewhere between Zayn pushing past the crowded bar to get to the toilets and making his way their table once more, Liam and Niall go missing. 

“Where’s - ?”

“Super secret convo Liam says we’re not allowed to hear,” Harry says, and nods to a corner of the bar.

Zayn slides into his seat, glances over to where Harry’s gesturing, and he can see Liam and Niall standing close together, Niall with a bottle and Liam with his coke. They don’t look serious, exactly - they’re both smiling a bit, even, but whatever it is was obviously important enough for Liam to actually move them somewhere else.

Louis says, “You know they’re talking about you, right?”

“Yep,” Zayn says.

“You know _what_ they’re talking about, exactly?”

“Nope.” Zayn turns back in his seat. He drains his beer, and Harry slides out of the booth. “I’ll get the next round.”

Louis goes with. They’re still fighting their way to the front when Zayn feels Niall’s hand on the nape of his neck. He drops down next to Zayn, and Zayn watches Liam spot Harry and Louis across the bar and wave.

"What was that about?" Zayn asks.

Niall kisses his shoulder.

"Nothing. He said he loves me,” he says, following Liam from where he's making his way over to Harry and Louis. "And he said not to hurt you."

Zayn trails his fingers up Niall's arm, and Niall grabs his hand, tucks their entwined fingers into the space between their legs. "Then he made this weird scrunchy face and hugged me and said we’re two of his best friends in the world and that we deserve everything good, always. And," Niall pauses, and Zayn looks at him, eyebrows raised.

"And?"

"And," he smiles, just enough that his eyes are little crescent moons. "That he's glad it's me."

Zayn lets go of his hand, opting instead to slide an arm around Niall's shoulders and tug him in close. He’s scans the bar counter until he can see Liam leaning over it, smiling at the bartender who looks vaguely like Danielle as he ignores Harry miming everything he does and bats away Louis' attempts to pinch his nipples through his shirt every few seconds.

Niall takes a gulp of his beer, and Zayn kisses his temple.

"I'm glad it's you, too," he says.

*

Louis hugs Niall goodbye at the airport for an hour, probably. For his part, Niall doesn’t actually look like he wants to let go, either, but Louis is holding on for dear life like a mother sending her kid off to their first day of school. Harry manages to pry him away long enough to jump at Niall, bend him back a bit.

He says, “I put two sandwiches in your carry-on before we left Liam and Zayn’s,” and Niall laughs and hugs Harry tighter. 

“Thanks, H.”

Harry eventually lets him go with a frown, and Liam’s next. Zayn can hear him say, “Be good.”

“I will,” Niall says, and Louis rolls his eyes.

“God, Liam, that’s so boring. Niall - get drunk as shit and wake up in a pond with no clothes on.”

Louis tries to worm his way between Niall and Liam for another hug and Zayn tugs him away says, “Hey - no, okay, only one of us is actually dating him.”

“Are you sure?” Harry asks.

Niall laughs, and hugs Zayn around his middle, face tucked into the crook of his neck. He shifts to shrug off his carry-on so Zayn can hug him back properly, and they stay like for a long awhile until Zayn says, “You have your boarding pass?”

“Yep.”

“Any and all forms of identification?”

Niall grins against his neck. “Yep.”

“Your -,” Zayn falters, “...clothes?”

“Are you just asking me questions so I’ll stay longer?” Niall says, pulling away, and Zayn says _no_ , but he’s grinning back like it’s a _maybe_.

“Harry are - are you _crying_?”

Harry’s rubbing at an eye. “No, leave me alone.”

“Sensitive boy,” Liam says fondly, pulling him in for a hug, and Harry blindly reaches out for another body, tugs Zayn in. Zayn takes Louis with him, and Niall pushed into the middle.

After a long moment, Niall shifts a little. “Guys,” he says. “I love you, but I really do have to get to my terminal.”

“Ugh, fine.” Louis shoves him gently, towards the escalators. “Go. Glance back at us in longing at least once.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Niall picks up his carry-on again, grabs Zayn’s cheeks with a hand to press one more kiss to his mouth, and then he’s walking away from them. He slowly slides out of view and, true to his word, turns to look behind him once last time and give them puppy eyes. He reaches out a hand, his mouth contorted into a grimace, and Louis laughs at him until he disappears. 

“I love that kid,” he says, and Zayn says, “Yeah.”

Harry says, “You can’t run after him, you know.”

Zayn glances at him. “What?”

“It’s against the law, and they’ll probably tackle you. The one thing about romantic comedies that never really worked, I guess.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Zayn laughs. “But thanks for the advice.”

They’re heading out of the airport when Liam slides an arm across his shoulders. Zayn lifts an arm to Liam’s waist, and Liam says, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Zayn says, even if his feet are itching to break into a run. “You?”

Zayn looks at him, and Liam's smiling ruefully. Zayn knows it’s because he was supposed to say goodbye to someone he loved, too. “I’m okay,” he says softly. Zayn really hopes he is. 

“I already miss Niall,” Louis says, turning on heel so he can look at them. “Let’s get trashed tonight in his memory.”

Zayn’s phone buzzes with a text, and he digs for it in his pocket. 

Its only 10 weeks , be over quicker than we’ll notice haha.. :)

"I am completely down for that," Zayn says.

*

It takes them forever to set up a proper Skype date. Zayn works most days, and Niall's got family obligations, and the six hour time difference doesn't really help anything, but they finally manage to find an opening the Friday Zayn goes back home to visit his family.

He's late, though. He goes out with some cousins from the city, and is supposed to be back home at nine, ten the latest, but on the way back home alone, the train he’s on malfunctions and he has to sit in a subway car for nearly two hours, with zero reception and no way to get a hold of Niall.

By the time he makes it home - walking, because of _course_ his phone is dead by that point, so he can't call someone for a ride - and rushes upstairs to his room and gets open his laptop, it's 12:14.

He's sitting there, frowning at his computer screen, because it's after six in the morning in Ireland and even though Niall's a night owl, he's not _that_ much of a night owl. He shrugs off his jacket, tosses his bag in the general vicinity of his closet and flops down, doesn't really register the familiar bubble-message sound coming from his laptop until it goes off a few more times. 

There's a pop up window in the corner, and he clicks it and smiles:

 **Niall** heyyyy  
**Niall** hahaha ,, thought you forgot  
**Niall** you there?????????

 **Zayn** sorry got stuck on stupid subway :( couldn't text :( :((((((((

 **Niall** you're here now :)

A video call request comes through, and Zayn clicks answer quick; he hears Niall before he sees him, muttering, "Fucking times zones."

When his webcam flickers into view, Niall's smiling, and he's got bags under his eyes. "'Lo," he murmurs, rubbing at his eyes.

"You look dead on your feet."

Niall wrinkles his nose and laughs and Zayn says, "Shit - I mean. I'm sorry it took so long."

"Not your fault. Didn't mind, anyway," Niall tries and fails to stifle a yawn, "wa - wanted to see you."

He tugs at his hair until it stands on end, smiles sleepily. "How are you?"

"Okay," Zayn says, then: "Better, now."

Niall resting his chin on his hand, leaning heavily on it, and Zayn smiles because Niall waited until six in the morning to talk to him, but he’s close to passing out now that Zayn tells him, "Go to sleep."

Niall blinks blearily at him, frowns. "No, I - haven't seen you in like, three weeks."

"On - God, my mom has something planned every day I’m here, but on Saturday?" Zayn says, "I can - I don’t know, I’ll fake a stomach ache?"

"Saturday," Niall's got his eyes closed. "I think I'm s'posed to help out at my cousin's pub. Could get out of it."

"Get out of it," Zayn says, and Niall's frowning deeper.

"M'sorry, I really wanted to talk."

"You're tired, Ni, it's fine," Zayn says. "Saturday. I'll even barricade myself in my room so my sisters can't come in."

"They can if they want," Niall says. "They yell cute things when you’re trying to record audio messages for me on Whatsapp. I like them."

"They love you," Zayn smiles, and Niall laughs.

"Yeah, got all the Malik's wrapped around my finger."

*

“Have you ever done this before?”

“Nah,” Niall says, “but - it can’t be hard.”

“I mean,” Zayn taps at the spacebar. “ _Something_ should probably be hard, at some point.”

Niall snorts, and his hand disappears to the left of Zayn’s screen; there’s a crinkling sound on his end, and Zayn narrows his eyes.

“Are you seriously eating while I’m talking about Skype-sex?”

“Mm,” Niall stuffs a handful of something fried and crispy in his mouth. “Foreplay?”

“God,” Zayn buries his head in his hands, and Niall laughs.

“No - alright, sorry, look, I’m done.”

Zayn peeks through his fingers, and Niall’s holding his hands up, palms outward, grinning. Zayn twists his mouth like that’ll hide his smile. “Where’s your brother?” he asks, instead of saying something absurd like wishyouwerehere, and Niall raises an eyebrow.

“Zayn, I’m out if you’re trying to involve him.”

“You share a room, Niall, _Jesus_.”

Niall shrugs, smiling. “I dunno, gallivanting across the country? He usually finds some willing friend of the family to sleep with while we’re here. Probably won’t be back ‘til late.”

He glances over his shoulder, at the bed nearest the wall. It’s his, Zayn already knows from the dozen other Skype calls they’ve managed to set up, and picks up his laptop. He crawls on, sits at the head of it and rests his laptop precariously on bent knees.

“You by yourself?” Niall asks.

“Yeah, Liam knew we were gonna Skype today, so he went to Harry and Lou’s.”

”Oh, yeah, they found a place, right? Harry sent me a bunch of photos of it. It looks nice.”

”It is,” Zayn says. “Can’t wait for you to see it. But - anyway, we’re not talking about that right now.”

”We’re not,” Niall agrees, and waggles his eyebrows

Zayn shifts his own laptop onto his stomach. “This is - I? Logistics.”

“Use your words,” Niall instructs, and Zayn flips him off, says, “I’m not even sure how it’s supposed to work with computers?”

“I mean, it’s like watching porn. Except real, I guess. Put your laptop to the side.”

Zayn does, and he can already feel his cheeks heating up - he holds his palms to them and closes his eyes and Niall says, “Hey?”

Zayn looks, and Niall says, “We’ve done this, yeah, before I left? Watched each other get off? So just - pretend it’s that.”

Zayn’s on his back, head turned to the side so he can see his screen. He runs a hand over his stomach, his fingers catching in the fabric there. Niall says, pleased, “Yeah, see? Easy.”

He moves his laptop too, now, off his knees and onto the space next to him, and the tips of Zayn’s fingers dip under the waistband of his jeans and he stops, tilts his head against the blanket underneath.

“I miss you,” he says, just because he wants to, and the ends of Niall’s mouth lift up into a warm smile.

“Miss you, too.”

“And - I love you.”

“Yeah,” Niall’s eyes are crinkling in the corners. “That, too.”

He leans to the side, towards his laptop, peers into the webcam and jokes, “So, is this going to be like Skype-lovemaking instead of Skype-fucking?”

“It’s like you’re determined to kill the mood,” Zayn comments, dragging his shirt up a bit, mindful of the way Niall tracks the movement. He shuts his eyes again, and his jeans have sagged low enough for him to trail his hand across his hipbone.

“Umm,” Niall sounds distracted. “What? No - I. Sorry. Joking. Clearly joking. I - continue.”

“Don’t know,” Zayn’s idly tracing over a tattoo. “Feel like making this a private deal now.”

Niall huffs, and Zayn cracks open an eye to look at him. He smiles lazily, and Niall’s got his chin on his knee and he smiles back. “Tease.”

Zayn’s fingers dip under the waistband of his jeans again, and he watches Niall bite down on the corner of his lip. Zayn’s got the top button undone when Niall tells him, unhurriedly, “I miss you.”

“We’ve gone over this,” Zayn says, but his smile softens when he sees the expression on Niall’s face - sort of halfway caught between want and need - and he says, “What is it?”

Niall’s got his fingers wrapped around an empty wrist and he says, “We’ll be okay when I get back, right?”

“Yeah,” Zayn says, because the idea of anything else right now isn’t in any way appealing. “Why - do you think we won’t?”

“No, I do,” Niall shrugs. “Just. Making sure, I guess.”

“Look,” Zayn begins, “I’m going to make you the biggest, dumbest sign I can think of when I pick you up at the airport next month, and then I’m going to take you to my apartment and make Liam stammer a lot in the morning because of the thin walls, and…”

He looks down, at the bracelet on his wrist, and tugs on one end of it. “We’re going to go on so many dates you’ll get tired of me, probably.”

“Won’t get tired of you,” Niall says, and then adds, quiet and a bit amazed, “I really love you, you know?”

There’s a pause, and Zayn smiles, and thinks Niall’s this strange and wonderful thing he doesn’t want to let go of anytime soon. “I know.”

“Cool,” Niall says, and he’s grinning again, dirty and suggestive.

“Now take your pants off.”

*

**Zayn**  
Just curious - do u have a place to stay next year?

 **Niall**  
Hahahahaha nope was gona sleep on my bro’s sofa until I found somewhere , why?? 

**Zayn**  
I mean I have space  
I have space for lots of things  
Stuff

 **Niall**  
Me??????? :D 

**Zayn**  
Mb, I’ll have to rearrange some things and see

 **Niall**  
Move that giant stack of comic books !!!!  
Or ur hair products hahahahaha ill sleep in the tub like a cat

 **Zayn**  
Idk Ni those hair products r expensive

 **Niall**  
Me  > 20 dollar bottle of hairspray

 **Zayn**  
Not sure how true that is

 **Niall**  
Bottle of hairspray cant suck ur dick

 **Zayn**  
Ok v true  
But what if I have a bad hair day???????

 **Niall  
** U don’t have a bad anything hahahahaha  
But I guess I could lend u a hat

 **Zayn**  
:( I’m bad  
I’m a terrible influence  
Bad by MJ was written abt ME

 **Niall**  
Yeah , Rezident Bad Boi Zayn Malik  
Sendin shivers up the spine of authority with his plastic avengers collector cups  
So is this ur way of saying  
‘Niall ily so much I cant bear the thought of u sleeping on ur bro’s shitty sofa’  
‘Niall please sleep with me in my bed I miss youuuuu’

 **Zayn**  
Whatsapp is a dumb invention I’m ignoring u now  
Because I’m BAD

 **Niall**  
Zaaaaayn  
Z  
I love you  
I wanna wake up with u n have that be my home , I think thatd b nice :D  
ZAYN???????

 **Zayn**  
Moving comic books.  
Ur bed awaits :)

*

“Zayn, your face is going to make me vomit.”

Zayn flicks Louis off without looking at him, bounces on his heels. “Shut up.”

“I’d take a picture for posterity’s sake, if I wasn’t holding this sign.”

“It’s okay, I’m recording on my phone,” Harry says, and Liam adds, “Me, too.”

“Shut up,” Zayn says again. His phone buzzes, and he gets the text he’s been waiting for since they got to the airport:

_ON MY WAY TO BAGGAGE CLAIM , PLEASE TELL ME YOU’RE HERE!!!!!!!!!_

Zayn texts back with a distracted smile:

_Every1 is waiting for u babeee :) :) :DDDD_

“I’ll puke all over this airport, I swear to God,” Louis threatens.

Zayn forgoes a response - it’d probably just be _shut up_ again - because his phone rings, and he answers and says, “Hi - I. Hi.”

“ _Hey_ ,” Niall’s voice comes through, breathless, “ _This is the biggest fuckin’ airport in the world, Christ_.”

The slight accent he picked up in Ireland is even stronger than the last time they spoke on Skype. (Niall says it’ll fade in a few weeks, it always fades in a few weeks. Zayn is sort of selfish and wants it to stay forever.) 

Zayn smiles. “You’re home, though.”

“ _I am_ ,” Niall says, laughter in his voice. “ _I am home_.”

There’s shuffling, and the sound of other people talking, and then Niall asks, curious, “ _Is that Louis holding a sign_?”

Zayn glances behind him at Louis, gives him a thumbs up, and Louis grins, holds the sign they spent last night making high above his head - it’s glitter-bombed and covered in stick-on stars and says _I-RISH YOU WERE HERE!_

“ _Were you guys drunk when you did that_?”

“Very,” Zayn promises.

He cranes his neck and - he can see Niall, a bit away, grinning and hiking his carry-on further up his shoulder. 

“I’m gonna hang up,” Zayn says, and Niall says _okay_. Louis whoops and Harry and Liam are doing some kind of two-person victory wave and Zayn won’t even let himself feel the slightest bit embarrassed about the fact that he can’t fucking _breathe_ because Niall’s the closest he’s been in three months. 

Louis says, “Camera’s at the ready, boys!” and Niall rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning so wide his nose is scrunched up, too. He drops his carry-on to the side, and says, again, “Hey.”

“Hi.”

Behind them, Louis scoffs, and whacks them over the head with the poster board.

“Kiss, you idiots,” he tells them. 

It’s all the encouragement Niall needs, apparently, because he throws his arms around Zayn's neck, and kisses him with a smile he’s not even bothering to tamp down. Zayn stumbles back a bit, laughs, tugs him in closer for a hug.

"This is better than every airport scene in every romantic comedy ever,” Harry says, tapping his phone against his chin. “Possibly because this is my actual life.”

“Not really yours, though,” Liam tells him, and Harry shrugs.

“Well, close enough.”

*

Once Niall’s brother arrives on campus the week before Zayn’s supposed to start his second year at the university (and a day before Liam’s meant to get on a plane to England), he - just like Niall said - throws a massive party. Niall leaves early to help set up, and when Zayn and Liam step into the place, it gives him the oddest sense of déjà vu:

Harry still flings himself into a hug with Liam, grinning big and just a bit drunk. 

(Though - Louis’ here now too, and he swoops in for them the moment Harry’s backs away.)

Liam still finds Danielle, who’s in town for the weekend before her internship starts, and it’s all soft touches and sad smiles with them, muted and foreign in the atmosphere of the party, but it’s enough for Zayn to think they’ll get it right, eventually.

Zayn still manages to bump into Niall on his way out of the kitchen (with a drink _for_ Niall), still holds Niall’s legs up for a keg stand. 

But instead of shaking Zayn's hand, like when they first met, Niall thanks him with a kiss - Zayn gets his hands on Niall’s waist, and he smiles into it, and Niall laughs and slings an arm around Zayn’s neck. He mumbles a pleased _missed this_ into Zayn’s ear and, yeah, alright, maybe one or two things are a _bit_ different this time.

Zayn doesn’t think he minds, though.

*

“Liam, I don’t _want_ you to go,” Louis bemoans from the floor of his apartment a few hours later. “Liam, let me hide in your suitcase.”

“You’re too big,” Liam tells him, tossing popcorn at him before he sits down. 

“No, I’m not. I’m like, easily foldable. Tiny, foldable human.”

“Tiny foldable Louis,” Liam smiles, and pats his cheek. “You’re so drunk.”

“I’m so _sad_ ,” Louis says, and Harry says, while lining up tequila shots and shaking salt onto his hand, “Me, too.”

“I’m coming _back_ ,” Liam says, and he looks towards Niall, who’s still in the kitchen, like Niall can help him. “They do realize I’m coming back, right?”

“Yeah,” Niall hands them all beers in turn, “Louis already put a timer on his phone to go off for your departure/arrival times.”

“I neither confirm nor deny that,” Louis says, and he licks salt off Harry’s hand before tossing back a tequila shot and chasing with the beer.

Zayn’s laughing behind his bottle, and holds his arm out so Niall can flop down next to him. Zayn knocks his snapback down and Niall glares at him and pushes his hair up before kicking at Harry. 

“Don’t be sad. Remember what you said when we got our tattoos? Doesn’t matter how far apart we are.”

“I’m too drunk to remember,” Harry’s laughing, and he rolls over onto his back. “Something about homes. We’re all screwy for each other?”

“Yeah, that works,” Niall nods. 

“Or we all just screw each other,” Liam says, and Zayn chokes on his beer. 

“Liam!” he says, but Liam just shrugs, shameless. 

Louis sits up, and he’s got a half-smile aimed Liam’s way. “God, I really did corrupt you, didn’t I? Bucket list goals.”

“I think there was always darkness inside of me,” Liam says thoughtfully, and Niall’s cackling, head tossed back in glee. They’re all maybe a little too drunk, and they're going to be so hungover in the morning and Liam - technically - needs to be up in a few hours, but Zayn is warm and content and he doesn't care so much about tomorrow.

Louis singsongs, “C’mere, Lee-yum,” and Liam goes, makes a strangled sound when Louis yanks him into his lap and puts him in a headlock. 

“This is not how you show affection, Louis!” Liam says, and Niall’s wheezing and wiping tears from the corner of his eyes. 

They all know Liam can easily break the headlock, but he doesn’t, and they’re both laughing and Louis shouts, “Harry, Harry, grab his legs! Let’s throw him in the shower!” and Harry does, of course, smiling wickedly as he clutches a pair of ankles.

Liam’s muttering _no no no no no no_ and they carry him to the bathroom. The door gets kicked shut by a wayward leg, and the sound of the shower starts up. Someone warbles something - _siiiingin’ in the pbbfftt_ \- and Niall looks at Zayn.

“We should help, right?”

“I kinda want to see how this plays out, actually,” Zayn says, and they’re both glancing over the back of the sofa when the bathroom door slams open and Harry - with half a head of wet hair - says, “Shit!” and flees over to Zayn and Niall, giggling. 

Liam strolls out after, completely dry aside from wet arms and a few wet handprints on his shirt, grabs the bowl of popcorn from where it upturned and pops a few clean pieces in his mouth before he sits down next to Zayn. 

Louis steps out _soaked_ , his hair plastered to his forehead. He makes his way over to them, chin raised, feet making awful, squelching sounds in his shoes. 

He stands in front of them - the four of them, huddled up on the sofa - dripping wet, and he licks his lips and says, “Gentlemen.”

“Louis,” Zayn warns him, but he’s already laughing, “Louis, don’t - !”

Louis screams like a banshee and nosedives into them, rolling around, and there’s too many limbs and water and laughter. He wriggles in their laps, shaking his hair out like a dog, spread out across the four of them, before he eventually picks his head up, rests it on a hand, elbow digging into Harry’s thigh. 

“Well, this’ll probably never get old,” he says, and Zayn grins.

“Probably never. Almost positively never.”

“Liam,” Harry looks over at him. “Liam, I’m glad I invited you to that party.”

“I’m glad we went,” Liam tells him, and Niall ducks his head and butts against Zayn’s shoulder.

He hums in agreement, and Zayn smiles and nuzzles him with his nose until Niall picks his head up and kisses him, soft and lingering.

Louis dry heaves, and Niall, still with his mouth on Zayn's, shoves him off the sofa. 

Louis’ lying there, laughing, and Niall breaks apart from Zayn with one more kiss and a grin. He pats Louis’ stomach with the toe of his shoe, and Louis holds onto an ankle. 

“I love you,” he says, to no one in particular. 

“Liam, don’t make any friends in England,” Harry says. “I mean, make friends. But none like us.”

“Don’t think I can. Don't think I want to, either," Liam murmurs, and glances at Zayn.

His eyes crinkle in the corners and he grins suddenly, bright and silly and _Liam_ and.

And Zayn was in love with that smile, once.

Now, though - 

Well, now he's got a slightly damp, perpetually optimistic metal-mouth boy next to him, aimlessly drawing patterns onto his forearm with an index finger. He's cute and funny and wonderful and he makes the bracelet on Zayn's wrist feel like a declaration of more to come. 

And maybe this isn’t exactly how Zayn hoped things would go when he first showed Liam that acceptance letter in his bedroom last year. Maybe this isn’t even the eventual-fade-to-black, happily ever after Harry always wants for everyone.

Maybe this isn’t a cut scene of any kind, really, because life's not a two hour long roll of film and end credits.

But it's still pretty fucking great, considering.


End file.
